


Sapphires

by SnowLily



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Multi, jaime x brienne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-10 08:03:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 39,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3282977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowLily/pseuds/SnowLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Brienne's nameday, but she's too busy grieving over the recent murders of Catelyn, Robb and Talisa Stark to want any sort of celebration. As usual, though, she gets the opposite of what she asks for, and for once it isn't actually Jaime's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Happy Nameday"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to quickly thank you guys for your feedback! I'm totally new to all this and tend to just write things how I'd like them without much explanation (sorry). I've spent some time today working through some issues I've had pointed out (thank you again for the help!) and will work to explain my differences to the show - including Lysa Arryn's absence (I needed a Jon/Arya/Sansa reunion) - much more clearly in the coming chapters.
> 
> *Smiles and hopes this cluelessness seems cute and endearing rather than irritating* 
> 
> There will be a few more chapters uploaded today. Thank you guys for reading! :-)

**Jaime**

"Happy nameday, wench."

He said it casually enough, but he meant it more than he wanted to let on. Brienne was always so guarded, controlled, almost uptight... If there were any time to let her hair down (metaphorically, obviously. The woman's hair was too short to ever be tied up) it should be on her nameday. She rolled her eyes and shook her head dismissively, moving into a fighting stance, a look of deep concentration upon her face. He didn't move, but folded his arms and grinned at her lazily. She scowled.

"You're going to have to enjoy yourself some time, woman. Don't you ever get fed up of being so bloody boring?"

Her scowl deepened. "And don't you ever get fed up of being a completely--" "Arrogant and insulting idiot?"

He finished her sentence for her, chuckling under his breath at how predictable she was. He knew he annoyed her, but found that in a lot of ways, he rather enjoyed it. Anger was the only emotion she seemed to be unable to control. Her thoughts played plainly across the features on her face when he irritated her; it was the only time he had any clue at all what the stupid wench was thinking. 

Obviously giving up, she stood upright. "If you know you're acting like an idiot" she began, wiping the light sheen of sweat on her forehead away with the back of her hand, "then why do you _do_ it?"

He shrugged, ignoring the small stab of sadness he felt as the midday sun caused his golden hand to gleam brightly, reminding him it existed. And that his actual hand didn't. He tossed his sword onto a large patch of grass, loosening his tunic slightly in an attempt to cool off in the humid summer air. Gods, it was hot! He wasn't sure he remembered a day so warm. Men were starting to leave the training yard they stood in, talking of abandoning their practice to swim in the waters of Blackwater Bay. It was an appealing idea, he thought; it had to be the hottest day of the year, and a swim would be the perfect way to cool down. But he'd agreed with Brienne to join her in their sixth training session of the week, and he knew he'd feel guilty for days if he let her down. He sighed.

"You know, some people actually see their nameday as cause for celebration." He folded his arms, raising one eyebrow subconsciously as he often did. She said nothing.

"Why don't you celebrate?"

A look of sadness infiltrated her Sapphire Blue eyes for just a moment, before she smoothed her features into that guarded, expressionless mask she was so used to wearing and looked past his shoulder. 

"I'll celebrate when Sansa and Arya Stark are safe and sound, with their brother on the wall." His features softened understandingly.

"They will be. I gave you my word." She nodded, meeting his Lannister-green eyes with her own; sapphire blue, and so intense. Neither said a word as they held each other's eyes, but they didn't need to. That was one of the things he loved about spending time with Brienne; no silence was awkward. They understood each other without having to spell everything out. And the fact that she wasn't one of those irritating women who felt the need to babble through every silent moment just for the sake of it was a bonus.

"Lady Brienne!" A feminine voice broke through the intensity of the moment, and their eyes snapped up, Jaime whirling his head around to where the voice sounded as he recognised it instantly. Cersei Lannister strode towards them elegantly, a serene smile across her perfect features and her entourage of guards following closely behind. She wore a dress of red velvet, with a metal bodice made of gold; it was almost resemblant of armour. Her long golden hair fell gracefully down her back in elegant waves, and a golden necklace with petite rubies dangling from it hung around her neck. Joy filled Jaime's heart at her arrival, but one glance at Brienne - who _just_ managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes - told him that she felt only irritation. He fought back a laugh; his beautiful twin sister must have been the only person in King's Landing who could get under Brienne's skin as much as he did.

"I've heard it's your nameday today."

Brienne smiled, though it didn't touch her eyes. He'd seen that smile far too many times. As much as it irritated him that she hid her feelings so often, he had to give credit to the woman; she wasn't stupid, and false though he knew her smiles were, they saved her a lot of trouble when she came upon people like his sister. "It is, Your Grace." Cersei's smug, almost arrogant smile never left her face, despite Brienne's short answer. 

"And will you not be celebrating?"

Brienne kept her smile intact, though she seemed to be struggling to do so more and more every second. Unlike Cersei, whose smile was as honest as they came; clearly, she'd heard Brienne's desire to keep her nameday a low key (or nonexistent) affair, and was taking delight in making as much talk of it as she could. His sister always had liked to twist the knife, as their father had always put it.

"I doubt it, your grace. There scarcely seems need for celebration in a time of such despair."

Of course, she was talking about the death of the Starks at the Frey wedding. His heart sank, hearing the notes of sadness and bitter anger behind her controlled voice. Cersei's smile remained intact on her mouth, though it left her eyes entirely.

"Nonsense. If anything, recent events give us even more of a reason to celebrate. One more threat to Tommen's claim to the throne has been eliminated! Forgive me, but what is to despair over?" She laughed, turning her eyes to Jaime for the first time.

"And what do you think, dear brother? Shouldn't Lady Brienne celebrate her nameday as well as our recent victory over the Starks? Perhaps we could hold a joined feast."

"It wasn't a victory. There was no courageous battle from the Lannisters. It was deceit, treachery and cowardice that led to the death of the Starks," She smiled in that rigid, controlled, forced way again, "Your Grace."

Jaime's head snapped to Brienne as she spoke before him, trying to warn her with his eyes. Unease flooded his body as Cersei stiffened at her words. _Gods Brienne, why now?_ He closed his eyes in anticipation of the explosion of anger sure to come from his sister.

Instead, she only allowed her smug yet beautiful smile to drop from her face. She paused for a few seconds, then looked at Brienne almost curiously.

"You should be careful, Lady Brienne. My beloved brother cannot protect you from everyone, and sprouting rubbish like that is sure to get you killed. If I hear of it once more, I'll see to that myself." She shook her head and laughed humorlessly.

"Such nonsense for someone seemingly so highly regarded. See to it that your new friend learns to speak to her hosts and her queen with the respect they deserve, dear brother. Only the gods know what you see in her."

With one last cold glance at Brienne, whose face had turned a vivid shade of scarlet owing to her bottled up anger, she sauntered out of the training yard, her knights trailing behind her.


	2. Oathkeeper

**Brienne**

"Well _done_ , woman! You just pissed off the most powerful woman in Westeros."

Brienne glared after Cersei's retreating figure, distaste and anger radiating from her in waves. It was all she could do not to run after the arrogant woman and give her the same dishonorable ending she'd been only too pleased had been awarded to the Starks. 

"The Starks are taken in as guests under what they think is a safe roof only to be herded to their deaths like cattle and she thinks it's a bloody Lannister victory?" Tears pricked her eyes, and she swallowed hard to stop them from filling them. She let her irritation take its place, and scoffed angrily.

Jaime stepped forward and placed his hand on the tip of her raised sword, lowering it slowly, almost nervously, with a look of apprehension on his face. It wasn't until then that she realized she'd even raised it. She sighed, closing her eyes.

"I shouldn't have said what I did."

"No, wench, you shouldn't have. Do you now realize now how bloody stupid it was?" He scowled, shaking his head at her idiocy. She averted her eyes.

"Cersei doesn't need a reason to make your life a living hell here. She does what she wants and if she's not supposed to do it, she has someone else do it for her. Provoking her and rising to her bait will only make your time here even worse."

She knew he was right, of course. The longer she stayed in King's Landing, the more she yearned to leave it. But she knew she had to keep to her oath; she'd promised Catelyn Stark she would return her daughters to her, at the cost of her own life should it come to that. As Jaime had insensitively pointed out (earning himself a steely glare and an irritated eye roll), Catelyn was no longer there to protect her daughters, so the closest way to keep her oath - and to honor her one last time - would be to take them to someone else who would protect them just as fiercely as she would.

"She could never stand the Bastard, you know" Jaime had told her in that infuriatingly offhand tone of his. She gritted her teeth, hating that there was a flaw in the best plan she could think of.

"Robb is dead, and so is their father. He's the only blood relative they have left" she'd told him. "Who else would protect them as well as she would herself?" Whether she hated Jon Snow, her deceased husband's bastard son, or not, Lady Cat was logical. She felt a sense of rightness in her gut about the idea.

He'd stared at her then, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. She averted her eyes from the intensity of his gaze. He'd agreed to speak to Tywin after that, and insisted Brienne stay in the finest guest quarters available whilst he attempted to persuade his father to let his precious 'key to the North' escape from the capital. And the clutches of his twin. 

Now, almost a month later, there she was; killing the long hot days with relentless fighting practice to pass the time, doing whatever she could to keep busy. Aside from the odd snide remark here and there Cersei hadn't bothered her all that much; Brienne kept out of her way, and she never came looking for her. Sword in hand, Jaime's scowling face before her, she grimaced as she realized that all that was sure to change. 

 _Why_ did things never run smoothly for her? She mentally cursed herself as she pushed strands of sweaty blonde hair out of her eyes, feeling Jaime's irritated gaze follow her as she walked to the weaponry to put away her sword. 

 _"Oh yes"_ she thought to herself irritatedly, rolling her eyes as she walked.  _"Happy nameday indeed."_


	3. Invitation

**Brienne**

The sun was beginning to slowly descend from its perch atop the midday sky, when she heard a knock at her door. 

With a sigh of irritation, she crossed from the overly-large mirror in her room to open it, attempting to work her fingers through the knots and tangles within her wet, matted hair as she did so.

Jaime stood just outside of her door when she opened it - still in the same tunic he'd wore for practice. She wrinkled her nose at him; at least she'd cared to wash and change her clothes. She walked back to the mirror wordlessly, even managing not to roll her eyes, and he entered her room, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. 

"Was it something I said, wench?" 

She didn't look away from the mirror or pause the detangling of her hair as she spoke back to him. "No, but you do smell awful."

He smirked, rolling his eyes. "Why thank you, it's good to see you again too. I might've gotten refreshed slightly quicker had it not been for my ambush by that bloody squire of yours."

She turned from the mirror to face him abruptly at the mention of her squire. "Pod? Why on earth would he--"

"I did warn you not to get on Cersei's bad side. Or, even more on her bad side than you already were, should I say. It seems she's planned... a gathering, of sorts. For your nameday."

Brienne's face flushed almost as deeply as the Lannister-red colour of her bedsheets. Her hands clenched into fists by her side, and she spoke through gritted teeth.

"I will not be attending I'm afraid, Ser Jaime." 

He rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, come on, woman. Don't pretend you have a choice. You can be as stubborn and irritating and boring as you like but we both know what will end up happening. _Use_ this time. Not only will Sansa Stark be there herself, but so will the man with the keys to her manacles. Metaphorically speaking, of course." He smiled wryly.

She unclenched her teeth, logic seeping in. Realistically, she knew she'd have no choice but to go. She could hardly disobey the Queen, much as she'd like to, without getting her head put on a spike. And, it really would be a good chance to begin discussing arrangements for Sansa's departure... She scowled, and he grinned, pleased that he'd managed to talk her around so quickly.

"You're right. It will be a good chance to speak with your father about my oath to take Lady Sansa to the wall." She made a face, and muttered "If your lovely sister doesn't behead me first."

She expected him to smirk, or make some sarcastic quip, but his features grew softer as he took a step towards her. "You know I wouldn't let anyone hurt you, Brienne."

She didn't even try to hide the shock and confusion on her face at his sudden show of affection - not to mention his use of her name, rather than 'wench' or 'woman'. His eyes stared into hers in a way that made her feel he had the ability to stare through to her very soul, and after a few seconds, she looked around the room absently, avoiding his gaze. She saw him shake his head out of the corner of her eye, and he laughed quietly under his breath. Tension filled the air, and though she hadn't the faintest idea of why, she found herself almost holding her breath, her heart beating a lot faster than it usually did. She swallowed, though her mouth was dry. 

He crossed back to her door, but her feet were rooted to the spot. 

"Oh, and one other thing..." He grimaced, as if remembering something terrible. Her nervousness, lightheadedness and confusion was replaced instantly with an impending sense of dread.

"...You _will_ have to wear a dress."

Her anger returned with the flush of her skin, but she nodded silently, biting her tongue rather than arguing. She knew it would do no good. 

"I'll send a handmaiden to you, and she can take you to the dressmakers."

Another stiff nod. He flashed a grin at her, then stepped over the threshold, the door wide open and his footsteps echoing down the stone corridor. 

She felt like throwing something. Or killing someone. Or tearing her stupid, tangled, matted, annoying hair out. Or all three. Instead, she settled for flopping defeatedly onto the stupidly large bed she'd been given and screaming her frustration into a pillow. Gods, this was more like torture than anything they'd experienced on the road, back when he was her prisoner, and she hated the bloody life out of him. A gathering full of people who would undoubtedly stare at her like she had three heads? Wonderful. A very high chance of another showdown with Cersei? Even more wonderful. The fact that she had to wear a bloody  _dress?_ Oh, the icing on the cake. And what in the Seven Kingdoms had that  _feeling_ been about? _  
_

She cast her mind back just moments before, remembering the increased speed of her heartbeat as he looked into her eyes. Often, he'd stare at her in a way that made her feel like she had to look away; that was just his eyes, and what they looked like - so bright, piercing, never missing a trick. But that... she couldn't help but feel that that had been significantly different. The concern in his eyes; so serious, so protective of her... She blushed faintly, a warmth creeping up the back of her neck and spreading lightly across her cheeks. She swallowed past it, moving purposefully back to the mirror.

 _"It was nothing"_ She told herself, shaking her head as if to clear it from the memory of how she'd felt. She held her head up high and focussed on nothing but working the snarls and knots from her short hair, trying not to grimace at her sudden realization of its resemblance to straw.


	4. "Give Me Strength"

**Brienne**

Standing on a tiny stool that felt close to breaking to shreds under her weight, Brienne persevered as several women poked and prodded and measured her, tweetering on about sizes and colours and measurements and necklines until it sounded like they were speaking a foreign language altogether.

She had no interest in the fashion field they spoke about in hurried, questioning voices, and counted the flowers painted on the wall in front of her by way of distraction as they busied around her.  _Gods_ , she could do without this; as if having to wear the bloody thing wouldn't be bad enough! Making her suffer through this beforehand was beyond a test of her patience. She kept her mouth a tight line, making it her mission to get through the stupidity of it all without storming out.

She  _had_ to go to the gathering, regardless of how little she wanted to. She  _had_ to get Sansa out of King's Landing, and she had to do it soon. She  _had_ to put on a brave face. Jaime would never let her forget it if she allowed her stubborn temper to get the better of her.  _Jaime..._

She blushed again, a strange sensation making her stomach flutter when she pictured his eyes staring into her own the way they had done before. She closed her eyes and grimaced, mentally chastising her own lack of mental strength. She was no lovesick maiden; she had no time for men, nor did she want any. Yet the way she saw Jaime in her head was different, and she honestly didn't understand why. It made her uncomfortable and, once again, she did everything she could to dispel any thoughts of him and those stupid eyes of his from out of her mind. 

She held her head up higher. 

"You're a very awkward one, you are." One of the dressmakers teetered irritatedly, tutting as she moved the makeshift neckline of her dress farther up, and then down, her body using clothespins. Brienne snapped out of her flower counting, realizing with a start that she was being spoken to directly, rather than as though she'd left the room. "I'm sorry, my lady?"

"Oh, don't apologize, there's nothing to be done about it" another chimed in, that same irritated look in her eye.

They were all older women, dressed in the same way that septas were. It took a few moments before she realized that that's probably exactly what they were; skilled in embroidery, teaching it to young children... She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to rub her forehead tiredly. Her brain was working more slowly than she ever remembered it doing, and she hadn't even made it through the bloody feast yet.  _Gods, give me strength_ , she thought. 


	5. Good And Right

**Jaime**

Upon sending a handmaiden to escort Brienne to the dressmakers (even weeks after arriving he knew the bloody woman wouldn't know where to go), He walked right through the Red Keep until he came to the very centre of it, Maegor's holdfast; though he resided in the White Sword tower with the rest of the Kingsguard, he knew the Royal Chambers were located there, and decided it was more than likely where he'd find Cersei. 

They'd scarcely had a moment alone since he'd returned. He knew his hand (or lack thereof) to be responsible for that, and felt a surge of anger at the thought, though it was quickly extinguished with sadness. How he'd wished she wasn't so bloody repulsed by him. It wasn't his fault, after all. Nothing in the Seven Kingdoms had hurt him more than the look of revulsion in her pretty green eyes the first time she saw his bandaged stump. He'd looked away, almost embarrassed; no longer was he her perfect Knight in shining armor. He was lucky to still be a Knight at all. He couldn't stand the pain in her eyes, so it was easier not to see them. 

He hoped they would be free of that pain today, as he knocked gently on her door. Perhaps the addition of his golden hand would help her to get used to it. He certainly hoped so; he'd only agreed to wear the damned thing in the hope that she'd stop acting so coldly towards him.

She never answered when he knocked, so he pushed open her door gently, scanning the room for her tall, willowy figure. Like all royal chambers, the room was splendid; finely decorated with only the most expensive of silks and decor, it was most certainly fit for a Queen. Yet there was no sign of his sister.

All he saw was a very shocked looking Lancel Lannister - their own cousin - tangled awkwardly within the sheets of the bed belonging to his sister, his Lannister-blonde hair in disarray from matters Jaime didn't even want to consider. Not that he could help himself. Rage tinted his vision, a dizzying sense of anger causing adrenaline to pulse through his veins as understanding of the scene before him seeped into his brain.  _I'll kill him_ , Jaime thought, his hands curling tightly into fists.  _He'll die for this._

He wasn't aware of the murderous look in his eye, or the way that his jaw had locked so tightly together that it would soon begin to ache, or even the way his body had begun to tremble with rage, as he took a step towards his terrified younger cousin. 

"Ser Jaime, please..." Lancel stuttered, clinging the silken sheets to his chest as he backed as far away from Jaime as the large wooden bed would allow. His skin had turned even paler than it usually was, and sweat began to bead upon his forehead. The shocked expression never left his face, as Jaime inched closer and closer, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

"Jaime." 

Her voice was the only thing that might've been able to snap him out of the ferocious trance he'd fallen into as he approached Lancel; edging closer and closer in the same way a Lion might circle its prey. 

He turned to face her, his face flushed and dangerously dark, his hand still hovering over the handle of his sword. 

She stood, radiant as ever, and not a hair out of place. Her arms were folded in that way that made her long, billowing sleeves drape over her whole body, and the parts of it that weren't covered by the deep red material were sheathed by loosely curled strands of her long golden hair. Her face wore an expression he'd come to know so well; not quite a smile, and not quite a frown, but somewhere in between. It made her look oddly curious, yet as though she were calculating something at the same time. 

_Gods, why was she so beautiful?_

"Take your hand away from your sword, brother. You're not stupid enough to do anything with it tonight." 

She crossed to a table to Jaime's right, and picked up a flagon of wine that sat atop it, as well as the glass that sat beside it. He didn't move a muscle. He didn't trust himself to.

His breathing was slow and controlled;  _in, out. In, out._ He knew he needed to regain control of his body before he dragged that useless, infuriating, sorry excuse of a Knight and slit his sickeningly pale throat a thousand times over. He gritted his teeth.

Again, she contemplated him, saying nothing. 

"So this is the reason behind your knighthood, dear cousin?"

His voice was low and dangerous, but controlled. His fists remained tightly curled.

Lancel looked around Jaime's unmoving body to Cersei, an anxious look replacing the shock upon his face. 

"No, no. Don't look at my dear sister. I trust you've done that enough already. Tell me, Lancel, how does it feel to be the world's shittest Knight? You can't enjoy it very much, surely? Must feel a bit like cheating knowing you only became one by fucking the Queen Regent."

"That's enough." Cersei's voice was strong and cutting. "He's more a Knight than you'll ever be, now." Her gaze rested coldly on his golden hand.  _"More a Knight than you'll ever be."_ Why was that sentence ringing bells of recognition within his head?  _  
_

Flashes of Catelyn Stark's face filled his mind, and for just a few seconds, he was back in that cage, a captive of Robb Stark's army. Cat had appeared, Brienne by her side.

_"Where did you find this beast?"_

_"She's a truer Knight than you'll ever be, Kingslayer."_

The difference was, he realized with a start, that Brienne probably _was_ a truer Knight than he could ever be. Just like he'd told Catelyn that same night, there were so many vows; so many of which contradict each other. It had to be impossible to honor them all. Yet Brienne... Somehow, she  _did._ She was the most honorable person he'd ever met. The day she broke an oath would be the day she left this world.

The anger faded from his face, and his fists uncurled with his sudden realization. 

Brienne wouldn't kill Lancel. Brienne would do the right thing. Brienne would be better than that; she'd hold her head high, in that stupid, irritating, stubborn way she had, and do what was  _good and right._ Just like when she'd cut down the hanging corpses of the tavern girls. Just like when she'd rushed to his side in the baths at Harrenhal, when he'd almost fainted in the water. Just like she did when he told her she had to attend the nameday feast she never wanted.

He met Cersei's eyes, at last; sparkling green on sparkling green. How hateful his sister had become. Or, perhaps, she'd always been that way. Maybe he had at one time, too. Before his capture by the Starks. Before his hand had been cut off. Before Brienne.

The corners of his mouth twitched as her name filled his head, and he felt her warmth and her goodness and her purity lift the anger and fury within him as her short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes invaded his mind. 

He looked back to Lancel, still staring at him, clearly terrified and expecting Jaime to lunge at him at any second, and then back to Cersei, and felt every negative emotion start to slip away from his body. 

He could have his damned sister if that's what he wanted. Wordlessly, he strode up the steps leading to Cersei's chamber door, and walked out of it without so much as a backwards glance. 


	6. Change

**Brienne**

After what felt like hours of being poked and prodded and quite frankly insulted by the dressmakers, Brienne trudged wearily back to her room. Her eyelids were heavy, closing for just a little longer than she intended them to, and she yawned more times in that short walk than she ever remembered yawning in her life.

The sun had set at long last, and the areas of the Red Keep that were visible were aglow with candlelight. A gentle breeze swept around the outside corridors and marvelous balconies, but it was still incredibly hot. The Summer truly was at its peak, she thought to herself, as she ambled tiredly through the grounds. 

It had been long, and for that she was thankful. But well-educated though she was, she'd heard what people said about long Summers; 'A long Summer means an even longer Winter' was a phrase she'd heard all her life, though admittedly from older people. She hoped what her father had always said about it being 'superstitious rubbish' was true.

Though, obviously, the Summer wouldn't last forever. She knew it it might not be for years, but that as sure as the sky was blue, that Winter would come.

She stopped walking abruptly, sadness throbbing in her chest, and tears welling in her eyes.  _Winter Is Coming._

She closed her eyes and breathed through the pain that accidentally remembering the Stark words caused her. Cat's face flashed through her mind, and it was all she could to do stay on her feet as the raw pain of loss and sadness threatened to knock her to the ground. 

She thought about her oath to Lady Cat constantly; that was a fact, an inevitability. She would see it through if it cost her her life. But rarely did she think about Lady Cat herself, and the terrible fate she'd suffered at the hands of the Lannisters. It was simply too painful. Not just the loss, but the anger, and the feeling of helplessness and uselessness at not being with the woman she'd vowed to serve to protect her in her time of need. 

Yet now she'd started, accidental though it was, she found it hard to stop. She'd heard that they'd slit Cat's throat, after making her watch the murder of her son, the love of his life, and her unborn grandchild. Images of it all clouded her mind, despite her best efforts to prevent them, and her breathing became rasped and shallow as the tears in her eyes finally began to flow down her face. 

"There you are, woman!"

She heard Jaime's silken voice from behind her, and wiped her tears away hurriedly before he could see them. She half-turned to see him, but was careful to angle her face in a way that wouldn't show that she'd been crying. She exhaled deeply.

"Yes, I've just been to the dressmakers. I believe my 'unnaturally wide shoulders' and 'irritatingly pale skin' is giving them the most difficult dress-designing job they've ever undertaken."

He stopped before her, grinning widely, though she didn't raise her face enough to see that herself. She kept her eyes fixed upon the ground, willing the blotchiness of her skin to fade away before he noticed it. With any luck, it wouldn't be obvious by candlelight. 

He chuckled lightly at her comment. "Such a shame! I've heard they don't get paid all that much, either. Hard life for some."

She rolled her eyes. "We aren't all lucky enough to be born a Lannister."

"Good thing too! The world would be terribly boring. We'd all be power and money-obsessed, not to mention exceedingly arrogant. At least that's what I've  _heard_ people think about us. I personally think I'm a far cry from any of those things." He winked at her, a playful smile on his lips.

She smiled in spite of herself, but rolled her eyes again too. "Of course you are. You, arrogant? Who'd have thought it?"

He feigned shock, as he replied "Tell me about it! I'm far too attractive and impressive and brave and kind to be considered  _arrogant._ The notion of it alone is simply ridiculous!"

She laughed, but only a little. It reached her eyes, though. Gods, he was irritating; that was a fact she'd learned long ago, and one she knew would never change. But he did make her laugh.

"You should have waited there for me anyway, wench. It's not safe for you to be wandering about so late."

She arched one eyebrow, forgetting she'd allowed herself to cry, as she looked up at him and said "Surely by now you trust I can take care of myself?"

His teasing smile faded slowly from his lips, and his eyes became sad as he took in her blotchy red skin, and the tinge of pink in the whites of her eyes. She immediately looked to her feet, and stepped backwards when he moved towards her.

"Wen- Brienne..." "I'm fine thank you, Ser Jaime. There's no need to fuss over me, I've just had a very testing day. I'll be going to my chambers, now."

He said nothing else, but frowned at her concernedly, stepping backwards and slowly dropping his outstretched hand.

Realizing he wouldn't stop her and demand to know what was wrong, she nodded tightly, and turned her back to continue her journey back to her chambers. She tried her best to ignore the stab of disappointment she felt as she heard no footsteps behind her.

And then she tried to ignore the sense of elation she felt when, after a few delayed seconds, she _did_ hear footsteps behind her, as Jaime jogged after her to catch up. That familiar fluttering feeling occupied her stomach and a tiny smile made the corners of her mouth twitch, but she refused to smile. It was only Jaime. _Why_ did she suddenly feel so strange about him?

"I trust you can protect yourself, wench. It's more for other people that I fear. That temper of yours is quite-" "I don't have a temper" she interrupted tiredly, annoyance towards him overpowering the strange fluttering she'd felt before. He laughed.

"Look at you! It's only me, and you're even ready to rip  _my_ head off. It was a joke, my good lady. Don't be so--" "I'm not anything, Ser Jaime. If you wouldn't mind, I'm very tired." She spoke through gritted teeth. 

For a second, she wondered if he'd get fed up with her snappiness and leave her to walk back to her bedroom alone. She supposed she'd deserve it; she was, perhaps, being a little harsh. The day had been long, however, and never in her life had she felt so many confusing and new emotions all at once. All she wanted was to close her eyes and escape from it. She understood nothing, here; not even her own feelings. It scared her, and the more she thought about it, the more she longed with all of her heart to leave.

But Jaime didn't walk away from her. He said nothing at first, then seemingly tried a different approach. Her heart smiled at his perseverance; she knew she was lucky he cared enough to put up with her even when she was acting so rudely.

"The main reason I didn't think it wise for you to be wandering around alone was because I didn't think you'd have the faintest idea of where the bloody hell you were going. I wasn't sure if the handmaiden I'd sent would think enough to come back for you - they're not the brightest of sparks, I'm sure you know that - and I didn't want you getting lost. Not everyone in King's Landing is as friendly as me, you know."

He grinned boyishly, and she smiled tentatively back. But not for very long.

"I know where I'm going" she said, almost resignedly, as they reached the corridor that led to her room. 

"I can see that. Though, surely you don't mean to berate me for taking care of you?"

A tiny wave of guilt lapped through her stomach as she heard the small note of offense in his usually overly-confident tone. 

Of course, his show of protection meant a great deal to her. She didn't know why, nor did she want to; in her head, it was locked away - along with the mysteries of the surprise blushes, the fluttery feeling, and the general sense of happiness she felt when she found herself around him. 

But she knew she appreciated it. She smiled softly, as they stopped short outside of her room.

"Of course not. Thank you, for taking care of me."

He smiled back, his green eyes soft yet smoldering at the same time. 

He was unbearably beautiful to her in that moment. He'd always been handsome, obviously; even coated in dirt and grime, with overgrown hair on his head and face, he'd looked like half a god. And back then he'd insulted her, and fought with her, and promised to kill her should he get the chance. Not that he ever took it when he did.

But now... his long, unkempt hair had been cut significantly shorter, and his beard had been shaved. Their absence revealed even more of his face and the perfection of his features than she'd ever considered they would. Not a speck of dirt could be seen upon him, and his eyes flickered and danced in the light of the glowing candles that lit up the corridor.

He was no longer just half a god. Her heart felt to be melting as she surveyed him; she didn't think she'd ever seen a person so stunningly beautiful.

His nature had changed as much as his appearance; she'd realized that weeks ago. He was much more kind, and much more understanding, than he was when they first met. The Jaime who'd called her a 'beast', who'd said he'd kill her, and who'd told her she was 'ugly' and 'boring' would never have walked her home, or tried so hard to keep her safe. 

Her heart begun to beat faster, and she swallowed hard.

"You certainly seem in good spirits" she said at last, her voice low and quiet. A small smile played at his lips.

"It's been an eventful day. Sometimes, you're lucky enough to see someone for who they really are. And years of being treated like a bloody idiot can finally be forgotten."

 _He's talking about Cersei_ , she thought, a sense of elation rising through her body.  _Has he finally seen her for who she is? Is that who he means?_

"I trust you're speaking of your sister." 

His smile grew a little wider, though the teasing glint in his eye gave nothing away. He paused for a few seconds, seemingly weighing up what he was about to say.

"I'm... speaking of more than one person."

She hoped fervently that her shock didn't register on her face. And even more fervently that the surreal sense of hope she felt hadn't been displayed upon it, either.

He looked away, shaking his head with a slight laugh, before he looked up again and his eyes met her own. He smiled kindly.

"Goodnight, Lady Brienne."

She smiled back, though her smile was much more reserved than his. 

"Goodnight, ser Jaime."

He bowed lightly, an almost amused look crossing his features, before he walked away from her room. 

She stood, frozen in shock, and listened to his footsteps slowly fade down the corridor before she entered her room.

She wasn't sure what it was, but something about the way she was beginning to feel about him had changed. And it was becoming harder and harder to hide it from herself.


	7. Stupid Maiden

**Brienne**

Brienne lent heavily against the wooden door of her bedroom once she'd closed it, sighing with closed eyes.

What was wrong with her? She was behaving like a lovestruck teenager rather than a Knight. Well, a used-to-be-Knight.

She felt a little stab of sadness as she pictured Renly, and remembered her time serving as a member of his Kingsguard. Why was it that everyone she vowed to protect ended up dying?

She rubbed her temples, crossing to her bed before slumping onto it defeatedly. 

_Maybe I'm stupid in thinking I can protect people._

First Renly, now Cat. Who would be next? She didn't think she could bear the thought of anything happening to Arya or Sansa, even though she'd never met them. They'd been through more in their lives than anybody deserved to. That was just another reason she'd been so determined to get them to safety; though, there and then, she'd never doubted herself or her ability to do so more. 

She truly did despise King's Landing; the awful smells of sewage and sweat that filled the irritatingly busy streets, the way that seemingly everyone she saw seemed to stare at her as though she were King's Landing's biggest curiosity. The heartlessness and the dishonor of the Lannisters. _All except for one_ , her mind whispered.

She grimaced, a surreal sense of shame gliding through her weak and exhausted body. 

Little though she wanted to admit it even to herself, she knew it to be pointless to continue to pretend. And, besides, the last few days had well and truly worn her down, and she simply didn't have the energy to lie to herself any more.

Jaime Lannister had been the only thing in King's Landing keeping her sane. He'd made being around the rest of his insufferable family almost worthwhile, and he continued to do so every day, simply by protecting her and being a friend. He made her laugh like nobody else ever had, and her heart squeezed each time she pictured his infuriatingly handsome face. 

One angel amongst a world of demons.

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense - and the more angry she grew with herself.

Her bright blue eyes flashed open, embarrassment making her face flush a deep red, even though she was completely alone. What in the seven hells was she thinking?

Regardless of how Jaime made her feel, she knew there was no chance she made him feel the same way. And even if she did... her eyes raked critically over her own body, as the certainty of her next thought set in painfully. He'd never act on it, when she looked the way she did. 

Tears stung at her eyes again, and she blinked furiously before they spilled over. Brienne had cried only a few times in her whole life, before arriving at King's Landing. Then in the last day, she'd cried twice. She longed for Tarth, and her father, and a life she knew and understood.

She always did fall for men who deserved better. Who could get better, and who wanted better. Like with Renly... Who would want her, when they could have Margaery Tyrell? 

She felt angry with herself for even allowing herself to feel the way she did.  _Stupid, foolish woman._

Jaime would never want her. Perhaps being around him so much, knowing that fact, would be as foolish as she already was in allowing those feelings to develop in the first place. How would she feel when his father inevitably got his wish and married Jaime to a beautiful, elegant highborn woman and had them tucked away in Casterly Rock, preserving the Lannister legacy? 

Her stomach squirmed with panic at the thought, and she sat up in reaction. Of course that would happen. 

 _It could even happen tomorrow_ , she thought, picturing the nameday feast supposedly held in her honor. 

If she hadn't felt so low, she might have smiled at the irony. Even if Cersei couldn't have him herself, Brienne was  _sure_ she'd find great joy in making her watch him be paired up with another woman. Of course Cersei knew how Brienne felt; the woman had even riddled it out before she'd realized it herself. 

She'd thought the reason behind Cersei's hatefulness towards her was simply the amount of time Jaime chose to spend with her. But, the more she thought about it... perhaps the way she felt about him had been more obvious than she ever noticed. 

It was stupid, and dangerous, and, above all, pointless. Just like with Renly, she was sure to have her stupid, reckless heart broken all over again.

Brienne nodded, sure of something for the first time in days. There was no sense in allowing these ridiculous, fluttery feelings for Jaime dictate her life any longer. She had an oath to keep, and she should focus everything she had on seeing it was carried through - not crying over Jaime like the lovesick maidens she'd always ridiculed. She'd never considered marrying, or making time for a man in her life. It was a trivial prospect to her, when she was so set upon doing something worthwhile. 

She shouldn't allow that to change. And from that moment on, she was determined that she wouldn't.

She dressed for sleep, and let her head fall heavily against the red satin pillows. 

 _Tomorrow will be hard_ , she thought tiredly. She would have to wear the dress she'd been measured for, get through the feast without being killed by Cersei, persuade Tywin Lannister to let her escort Sansa to the wall, and keep her mind (and body) as far away from straying to Jaime as possible. 

Despite the difficulty of the first three tasks, she knew the last would be the hardest. She grimaced at the sadness the thought of it caused her.

 _You'll be glad for it eventually_ , she told herself as she began to drift into sleep. It had taken her most of her life, but she finally felt that her skin was becoming as thick as her armor.


	8. "Good Morning"

**Jaime**

He'd woken up earlier than he usually did, and found himself incredibly awake the moment his eyes opened. He felt happy, well-rested, and almost  _excited_ about the day ahead of him.

He knew Brienne was dreading the feast, but he'd make sure she enjoyed it. It was in honor of her nameday, after all - even if it was a day late. 

He really did want her to enjoy the feast. It was no secret to anyone in King's Landing that his closest friend was having trouble adapting to the life she'd had thrust upon her there, but that didn't mean he couldn't do whatever he could to try and make it more durable for her. It was his fault, after all; he was the one who'd said to persevere with his father and take Sansa civilly, rather than kidnap her in the dead of night like Brienne had suggested. It was his fault she'd had to stay in the capital she'd come to despise so much, for as many long weeks as she had. He wanted to make it up to her.

Not even just out of guilt, but almost in thanks, too. His epiphany in Cersei's chambers - of how good, and pure, and honest Brienne was - had rung around his head ever since. He was always aware of growing fond of the wench, but he never truly gave any thought about why that was. 

Now he'd taken a step back, observed her kind, honorable nature from an outside perspective, and found it affecting his own decisions and thought processes. She'd saved him from making what would arguably have been the biggest mistake of his life, and she hadn't even done anything. He smiled ruefully, remembering what he'd said to her the night before outside her chamber:

_"Sometimes, you're lucky enough to see someone for who they really are. And years of being treated like a bloody idiot can finally be forgotten."_

_"I trust you're speaking of your sister?"_ She'd replied, on his wavelength as quickly as always. It was almost like they thought in the exact same processes sometimes, and had the same brain patterns. He'd smiled.

_"I'm... speaking of more than one person."_

Initially, he had of course been speaking of his sister. Catching her with Lancel, behind his back, and then experiencing her cruelty as she'd glanced coldly at his golden hand, had opened his eyes to just how hateful and uncaring his twin sister truly was. He'd felt a weight lift from not just his shoulders, but the very centre of his being, as he'd felt any positive feeling towards her drip away from him in the same way that the lies she told daily dripped effortlessly from her tongue. He'd felt free. Honest. And in a strange way,  _clean._

But it was all because of her. And, as unintentional as it was, his epiphany had allowed him to see her in en entirely new light. Whilst her most prominent features previous to his realization were stubbornness, naivety and her need to be so introverted, he'd then seen the other side of her in full definition - honor. Kindness. Goodness. Purity. Morality. 

Thus, he'd said, in as brief a way as he could, that he spoke of more than just one person. It had to be obvious even to a bloody monkey that he meant the other to be her.

But, true to form, she'd never asked what he'd meant. So he'd laughed, and bid her goodnight.

Now he couldn't wait to bid her "good morning."

He'd washed and dressed and, after killing as much time as he could, (which didn't turn out to be much at all), he found himself walking the familiar path from his quarters in the Kingsguard chambers to the fine guest rooms, where he'd insisted Brienne slept. 

Few people were around at that time of the morning, though those who were bowed respectfully at his passing. He grinned; how much better it was to be treated as a hero, rather than a captive. 

He couldn't quite describe the spring in every step he took, or the light air about him which didn't even budge when he saw Lancel ambling irritatingly through the grounds. His cousin didn't see him, and Jaime ignored him completely. The thought of seeing Brienne was the only thing that interested him, though he couldn't put his finger on the exact reason why. Before long he stood outside of her door and he knocked lightly, longing to see her earnest smile, and deep blue eyes.

After a few seconds, she appeared at her doorway, a frown replacing the initial shock on her face at his arrival. His own smile faded in response.

"What is it, Jaime?"

She looked at her feet, an air of sadness about her. She seemed lonely, and incredibly distant, even though she stood close enough to him for him to count the freckles on her face. He didn't know what to say, his good mood slipping further and further away from him by the second.

"I thought I'd come and see how you are" He said weakly, realizing only then that he didn't actually  _have_ a reason for visiting her. How odd. Had he really come to enjoy the woman's presence that much? He supposed it was natural he should be drawn to someone who understood him so effortlessly, and omitted goodness and kindness wherever she went. But Gods, he could never  _say_ that to her.

She nodded wordlessly, never raising her eyes from the ground. Irritation surged through him.

"I don't know why you've started being so bloody distant, wench, but could you at least do me the honor of looking at me maybe once throughout our conversation?"

Her eyes snapped up to his own, sad and apologetic. Guilt extinguished the irritation. 

"I'm sorry, I just have a lot to do today" she mumbled, her eyes dropping back to her feet.

"Brienne, what is it?" He asked softly, and more seriously than he normally would have. She'd been acting like this since he'd found her walking from the dressmakers the night before, but he'd just assumed it was a bad mood. She seemed relatively normal when he'd left her outside her room...

She swallowed hard, and her voice caught a little as she replied "Nothing, Ser Jaime. As I said, I--"

"Did you actually just refer to me as Ser Jaime in a way that wasn't sarcastic?" He interrupted, one of his eyebrows raising in a perfect arch. 

She met his eyes at long last, sticking her chin into the air stubbornly as she always did when making a point about something. 

"Is that not your title?"

He stepped backwards a little, shocked. She was simply being  _cold_ at this point, he decided, his eyebrows raising and his smile fading. He couldn't believe her air of formality. What was wrong with her?

"Yes. Yes, I suppose it is." Was all he could think to say.

She nodded silently.

"Well, if that's everything Ser, I should begin preparing for my nameday feast."

The look of offended incredulity at her shocking behavior never left his features. He was silent for a few seconds, before his anger and hurt got the better of him, and he snapped at her.

"Excellent, wench. Do have fun, won't you? Maybe if you dress like a woman for a change, some irritating fool, more than likely a gambler, might ask you for a dance. I do hope you enjoy yourself."

He knew he was too harsh. He knew he'd hurt her. And for a few brief seconds, the looks of shock and hurt that washed over her eyes made him feel guilty. Then she recomposed her features into that infuriating mask of disinterest, and he felt angry all over again.

"Perhaps." She said back tonelessly, clearly not rising to his bait for an argument, which somehow infuriated him even more.

"And do pass onto him my condolences. Any man stuck with you must have a bloody death wish. Or torture, in fact" he hedged one last time, determined to provoke her into arguing with him. Even an argument would be better than this sense of... distance, and nothingness, she exerted towards him.

"If you are in attendance, you will be free to do so yourself" she replied testily, her jaw locking into place stubbornly. 

He shook his head and smiled, though the hurt he felt inside at the shock and confusion over her sudden coldness towards him was evident in his eyes regardless.

He walked away, unable to quite comprehend how his good mood and excitement at the thought of seeing her had turned so bleak and upsetting in the space of a few short minutes. How had everything changed so quickly? 

He was worried he'd lost his best friend, and wondered all the way back to his chambers what he could possibly have done to deserve it.

 


	9. Evaluation

**Jaime**

As he'd slowly ambled back to his chambers, a heavy frown and sense of worry replaced his shock and incredulity at what he'd just experienced. 

He didn't want to argue with her. He'd only just come to realize how much he enjoyed being around her. And, stubborn though she was, Brienne wasn't rude, and certainly not  _cold._ Even when she scarcely knew him, and called him Kingslayer, she'd never acted like that towards him.

Her words and eye rolls were thick with irritation, and heavy with sarcasm and just plain annoyance; she'd never been distant, and her sudden change worried him more and more with each passing minute.

What could possibly have caused it?

He weighed up the possible options as he walked, determined to work a way through whatever problem had been caused, and see that she was as safe and happy as he wanted her to be. Of course, she infuriated him - her stubbornness would possibly one day be the death of her - but he cared for her, too. Very deeply. And so he wracked his brain for anything that could have sparked her shift in mood towards him.

Could it have been anything he'd said or done? He cast his mind backwards, revisiting the scene from the night before, trying to remember every word exchanged. They'd parted on friendly enough terms; he'd hinted at the new-found appreciation he felt towards her, and she'd smiled in that soft way she had, where her eyes seemed to melt until they looked like pools of Sapphire coloured water. She'd smiled, and he'd smiled; they'd said goodnight. Before all that, she'd... His heart jolted in his chest as he remembered the blotchiness of her skin, and the swollen look around her eyes when he'd first spotted her. He knew she'd been crying, though she'd made it exceedingly clear that she wouldn't tell him why. She'd walked away from him, and for a few seconds, he'd watched her go... but then he'd ran to catch up to her, unable to bear the thought of her alone and upset.

He'd had every intention of finding out the cause of her unhappiness. But he'd teased her, and made her laugh, to cheer her up; it had worked, and he'd gotten her home safely, even managing to put a smile on her face. But then... He felt ashamed of himself for being so insensitive. She'd seemed completely fine by the end of their journey, and he'd forgotten all about the fact that she was upset. 

He should have been more considerate and thoughtful, and asked again why she'd cried. How mind-numbingly stupid did he have to be to forget she was even upset in the first place? All he knew and cared about were that the smile he enjoyed seeing so much was etched back upon her face. Everything else had ceased to hold any degree of importance in that moment. 

Perhaps she was upset with him for that? He stopped short, considering turning back to apologize to her, and find out once and for all what had made her cry. His heart ached at the memory of how she'd looked, and he felt so unbearably ashamed of himself that it was all he could do not to sprint back to her room and beg her to forgive him.

But what if, instead, someone else had upset her? If they had, Gods help them, whoever they were.

What if she was the way she was when he saw her today, for the same reason she'd cried the night before? He knew he needed to find out. If it was a matter of  _what_ had upset her, he was limited in the ways he could help; but if it was a matter of  _who_...

A dark look spread across his features. He was admittedly clueless on what the source of her sadness was, but there was one thing he felt absolutely certain of -  nobody would make Brienne cry. 

He continued his walk, though his strides became slower as his thought process became more complex.

Who would even  _want_ to make Brienne cry? It went without saying, of course, that an extraordinary amount of (unwanted) attention had been accidentally drawn to the poor wench thanks to her size and undoubtedly masculine appearance and habits, but as he'd always acknowledged, she wasn't stupid; she smiled at the right people, and, in most cases, kept her temper in check and did what was asked of her. Other than his sister, he couldn't think of anyone she'd had any sort of dispute with.

_His sister._

Realization hit him as though he'd slammed into a solid brick wall. If anyone was likely to have upset her, and cause her to act so distantly around him, he couldn't imagine anyone else more likely to be behind it. Guided by his anger, he turned on his heel and strode fluidly to his sister's chambers. It was time to end the ruthless mind games she'd played for years once and for all.


	10. Visit

**Jaime**

He didn't knock on Cersei's door when he reached it, but pushed it open forcefully and powerfully walked into the room without any interest at all of what or who would be inside it.

She sat with her back to him, combing her hair in her beautifully sculpted mirror, though she didn't start at his sudden entry.

"What did you say to her?" He asked through his teeth, watching her reflection in the mirror. That smug smile played around her lips, as she turned to face him.

"I don't know who you mean, my love."

"Brienne." 

Her look of smugness turned to false amusement. The coldness in her eyes gave her away.

"I haven't seen the beast of a woman, dear brother." She crossed to pick up a shell lying on her bedside table. He recognized it at once to be a personal favourite of hers; she'd found it with him, when they'd strolled along Blackwater Bay together some three or four years ago. It had always made him smile, before; now it just irritated him.

"Well, contrary to you, dear sister, I have. She wasn't at all happy. Are you sure you're not aware of why that is? Only, now she won't speak to me. Which seems oddly like something you might have enforced, don't you agree?"

She surveyed him silently, that half smile on her lips and calculating look in her eye. 

"Indeed it does. Though I have to say again, in the most sincere of ways, brother, that I have neither seen nor spoken to your special friend."

Cersei wouldn't gain anything from lying in this situation, he realized. If she'd caused a rift between he and Brienne, she'd be the first to gloat about it. There was no hiding the surprised glee and amusement dancing in her eyes as she learned of the news. His heart fell, as he realized his strongest possibility in terms of the cause of her sadness wasn't right. 

He frowned, immediately trying to imagine other people who may have upset her. He'd forgotten Cersei was in the room until she placed a hand delicately upon his chest. He started at her touch, drawing back from it quickly.

"I'm sorry about Lancel" She said seriously, looking away from him in a way that made her appear almost embarrassed. She'd dropped her hand, but hadn't given up completely.

"I can't really explain my actions. But he isn't you, my love. No one ever could be." She dropped the shell she held and caressed onto her bed, and her hands found his face. Her beautiful eyes stared into his own. He knew every colour of those eyes; every line, every curve... Her lips drew closer to his, and for just a few seconds, he longed more than anything for them to meet after spending so much time apart. 

But these were the same lips she'd kissed Lancel's lips (and Gods only know what else) with. They were the same lips that she'd insulted him and his abilities as a Knight with. The same lips that she'd just called Brienne a beast of a woman with...

He drew back from her forcefully, anger and disgust overcoming the sense of vulnerability towards her that his sadness and worry for Brienne had caused.

Her face turned cold, and she folded her arms.

"You've changed", she said.

He smiled, thinking back to his realization of how since meeting Brienne, he  _had_ changed. He'd become better.

"Yes" he began, smiling softly. "I have."

He wordlessly left her room, as he was apparently making a habit of doing, and started back towards Brienne's chambers. He'd find out the problem and solve it if it were the last thing he ever did. He'd sworn to protect her, and that was exactly what he aimed to do; whether it be physically, or emotionally. The first step to being as good and right as Brienne was to keep the oaths he'd made. He'd always found it hard to keep every oath, since so many of them cancelled others out, but it was time to try. Time to do his best, and honor his position as a Knight of the Kingsguard.

And, all that aside... he knew that keeping to his oaths, however small, would make Brienne proud. And that meant more to him than most other things put together. 


	11. "Honor Is Dead"

**Jaime**

Jaime jogged nervously from Cersei's chambers to those of Brienne's, eager to learn the reasons behind her sudden distance from him and eradicate them completely, whatever they were. 

He was at her door before he knew it, knocking quickly and strongly, calling her name as he did so. She never answered though, ( _Nobody ever seemed to anymore_ , he noted with a hint of annoyance) and so he pushed it open gently. He scanned the room, but there was no sign of her. Sighing, he traipsed back towards the Red Keep, wondering where in the Seven Kindoms she might've gotten to, when he was intercepted by a squire.

Jaime sighed irritatedly as the tall, lanky boy stepped in front of him nervously, bowing slightly yet never quite meeting his eyes. 

"Apologies, Ser Jaime" the boy said, clearing his throat anxiously. "I've been sent to tell you that Lord Tywin- that is, your father, requests that you to meet with him imminently in the Tower of the Hand. Of the king, of course. Obviously." The boy grimaced, closing his eyes, and Jaime's irritation shifted to something a lot closer to amusement and even sympathy towards the poor boy.  _He must be father's new squire now that Lancel's been knighted_ , he thought to himself wryly.

He clapped the squire on the back as he walked past him. "I'd better be on my way, then."

"Thank you, Ser Jaime" the squire replied. "I'll go and tell him you're on your wa--"

"No need to tell him, my friend. I'm on my way to seek out his riveting presence as we speak."

Jaime set off towards his father's chambers, and the young squire watched admirably as his figure retreated farther and farther into the distance.

He jogged up the steps two at a time, only slightly breathless as he reached the very top. He grinned happily, thankful for the first time since it had happened that it had been his hand that had been cut off, rather than one of his feet.

He knocked quickly on his father's door, but didn't have to wait too long for a reply for once as a strong, gravelly voice commanded "Come in" straight away, and Jaime entered the room belonging to the 'second most' (though, realistically,  _most_ ) powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms.

It was as splendid as you'd expect; decorated finely and expensively, much in the same way that the royal quarters were. He couldn't help the look of distaste that overcame his features as he realized the similarity between his father's choice of decor and that of his sister's. He smoothed his expression before Tywin could notice, and smiled politely.

"Father, you asked to speak with me."

"I did." Tywin's piercing green eyes burned into those of his eldest son, as he surveyed him with the most serious and intense of expressions. "Sit."

Jaime crossed to a chair, which sat before the marble table Tywin used to paw through the hundreds of documents he had sprawled upon it. His father sat opposite him, power seeming to radiate from him with every breath he took. Again, Jaime felt a surge of sympathy towards the squire he'd encountered; his father even possessed the ability to intimidate him - Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and above all, his  _son_ \- so he scarcely dared to imagine how intimidating he came across as to a young, inexperienced squire. He smirked lightly. No wonder the poor lad had seemed like a nervous bloody wreck.

"Your... friend" Tywin started, his emerald green eyes never leaving Jaime's face, "I understand yesterday was her nameday?"

"Yes. Though she didn't want anything to be made of it, so I don't understand why everybody else seems insistent upon forcing the matter. None of you even know the bloody woman. Can you not just let her be?"

"According to your sister, apparently not." Tywin stood in his seat, pouring himself a cup of wine from the flagon upon his desk, before he began pacing back and forth as he spoke.

"Why she's so determined to celebrate a woman she barely knows' Nameday, I cannot tell you. But she _is_ the Queen Regent, whether we like it or not, and it would be improper and in several ways, foolish, to intervene with her plans."

Jaime nodded silently, irritation seeping from every pore on his body. Gods, he despised the woman.

"Cersei insisted the ball, feast, whatever the bloody hell it is, is to be held in the Great Sept of Baelor late this afternoon." Jaime's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Do you not think that's slightly... over the top?" 

His father eyed him sternly, that expression of disapproval as thick in his tone as ever, despite the fact that Jaime had done nothing to deserve it.

"As I said" he started strongly, his eyes raking over his son and his golden armor, "She is the Queen Regent. What she asks for is not for us to question. Ridiculous though it seems."

Jaime rubbed his temples, feeling a strong need to punch something. What in the Seven Hells had he ever seen in the woman? He looked to the ceiling tiredly, wondering why nothing could ever be simple.

"Brienne will love that." He said wryly, already thinking up ways to tell her that wouldn't end with him being punched in the face. He couldn't think of one.

"Regardless, your sister has made the arrangements and neither you nor I have the power or the stupidity to interfere with them."

Jaime said nothing, and kept his eyes fixed upon the table. Silence filled the room.

"If that will be all, father-" 

"The death of the Stark boy is also behind your sister's insistence upon celebrating. See that your friend keeps her temper under control, will you?"

"I'll do my best. For her safety, rather than the pleasure of my dear sister." He smirked, "Or any guards she commands to seize her."

Tywin surveyed him wordlessly; calculating, evaluating.

"She's quite the fighter. I've heard as much from Varys - member of Renly's Kingsguard, was she? Before, of course, she began her service to the Starks?"

Anger coursed through him.

"She didn't serve the Starks. She served Lady Catelyn."

"Lady bloody Catelyn" his father scorned, shaking his head as he repeated his son's words irritatedly. His next words were harsh, and spoken through gritted teeth.

"Have you bloody heard yourself? The Starks were traitors to the crown and kidnapped you for over a year. Did they call you Ser Jaime as they tied together your hands and made you their prisoner?"

"Sarcastically, perhaps" Jaime quipped, a slight smirk at his lips.

"For once in your life, be serious. You are a Lannister, for God's sake. Start and act like it, instead of prancing around like a bloody idiot with a Stark Loyalist seemingly confused about her own gender."

He felt his anger return and show upon his face, though his father's serious expression did not budge.

"Brienne is the most honorable person I've ever met. Whether she walks around in dresses or not is irrelevant--"

"Yes, I'm sure she's beautiful to you regardless, for whatever reason" his father cut in with a dismissive wave of the hand, causing Jaime's face to flush lightly, "But it's drawing more attention than you perhaps realize and I will  _not_ have this family's name tarnished because of your silly crush on a woman loyal to those who maimed you-"

"Oh yes, of course. I forgot about the part where Brienne held me down as Catelyn Stark brutally cut off my hand-"

 _"Will you be serious?"_ His father shouted, though it was more of a command than a question.

Jaime sighed heavily, more and more tired by the second. How had his day turned so upside down in the first couple hours of it?

"You are lucky the woman is still alive. If it weren't for the fact that I thought you'd kill anyone who tried to touch her, I'd have had her killed when you returned-"

"But you know that that won't get you what you want, don't you father?"

Tywin said nothing, and Jaime smirked, shaking his head.

"I am not going to resign from the Kingsguard. You're wasting your time in pressing the issue. How far will it go? Are you going to have one of your honorable knights put a blade to her neck and only let her go when I say the right words?" He laughed mentally, finding the image of any man attempting to seize Brienne when she was fully armed incredibly amusing. Not that he wouldn't kill anyone who tried.

"Honor. Since when was honor so important to you?"

Jaime swallowed hard, knowing the answer immediately, but not being brave enough to say it. He couldn't imagine what his father's reaction would be if he blurted out "Since Brienne!" and couldn't think of anything else to say, so kept quiet.

Tywin shook his head, as he sat back at his desk. "Honor is dead. You know it as well as I."

"You don't know Brienne-"

"I do not need to know your beast of a friend" Tywin interrupted, the harsh, rough edge back in his steely voice.

"Ned Stark was said to be the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms. Did it serve him any good?"

"No, because of people like us." Jaime combated quickly, hardly daring to believe he'd let the words slip from his mouth.

Tywin was quiet again, though his eyes never left Jaime's face. 

"Exactly." He said at last. "Everyone these days is 'people like us.' Honor doesn't win battles. Honor doesn't win wars."

Jaime said nothing.

"You may not resign from the Kingsguard now, but the time will come. You will reside as Lord of Casterly rock in my stead, where you rightfully belong, and will produce an heir to take this family name forward. Be sure of that."

Again, Jaime said nothing.

"And be sure that both you and your friend attend the feast. For your own good, as much as anything else. You will also see that she attends dressed as a bloody woman for a change; she is ridiculed enough as it is, and I will not have that impacting upon the family name." 

Long seconds of silence passed, as Tywin busied himself within his many papers again.

"That will be all."


	12. A Single Sapphire

**Brienne**

Once Jaime had left, Brienne had traipsed sadly back to the dressmakers as she'd been instructed to the night before, for her final dress fitting. 

She was happy she'd grown a thick enough skin to distance herself from Jaime, hurt though it did, but she'd found she missed him quite terribly. His arrogant smile, his sarcastic quips, his overprotective nature and even his mocking name-calling... she sighed glumly as she entered into her second hour or so of her own personal hell.

The dressmakers were busying about the room hurriedly, clearly stressed, barking commands and arguments at one another so loudly they didn't notice her arrival at first. 

"Oh, Lady Brienne" one of them said at last, with a slightly insulting lack of enthusiasm. "Here, dear, stand on the stool."

With a sigh, she stood atop the stool, hoping once again that it didn't break apart under her weight. She was, after all, significantly heavier than most other women.

"Lady Brienne is here" the dressmaker shouted, turning her head towards a doorway as she did so. She sounded resigned and very, very tired, but smiled politely as her eyes met Brienne's. Three other women entered the room, all carrying the dress they'd evidently found creating a very stressful experience, and Brienne's eyes widened without her permission.

Brienne hated dresses - always had, and always would - but even she couldn't deny that the dress was beautiful. Made of a heavy, Sapphire Blue silk, the dress was easily the most beautiful she'd ever seen. 

Yet she choked back a sob, as she realized whom the dress reminded her of. The top layer was Sapphire Blue, the exact same shade of the water surrounding Tarth, the island from which she came, and was embroidered finely with small swirls and stars and even a few crescent moons which reminded her strongly of the sigil of her house. The layer beneath it was also made of silk, this time embroidered with larger (but by no means less intricate) flowers, and was a beautiful cream colour. The top layer sat over the bottom almost as if it were a robe - buttoned, just once, at the waist - exposing the cream bottom layer from the modestly-cut neckline to the chest, and then again from the chest to the hemline - and the button in the middle was a single Sapphire. It twinkled, gleaming in the light, in the exact same way that someone she used to know's eyes did. 

The sleeves were billowing, the hems of each decorated with thread the same colour as the bottom layer of the dress, in swirling patterns interspersed with small flowers and stars, and... Brienne's eyes widened even further, and filled with tears.

Amongst the starbursts and swirls from her sigil, and the flowers which kept it up-to-date with King's Landing fashion, sat a tiny, barely-noticeable fish, swimming solitarily through the embroidery. The tears ran unstoppably down her face, and one of the dressmakers handed her a handkerchief. The fish, random though it seemed, struck a remarkable resemblance to the sigil of a house she'd heard of many a time.

Styled identically to the types of dress Lady Catelyn wore, it made her heart ache to set eyes upon it. It was simple, modest and Northern in style, but complex and fashionable in design. The more she looked at it, the easier it became to picture Cat wearing it, looking at her through those Tully Blue eyes, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs trying to escape from it, embarrassed at her lack of control of her own emotions. _Lady Cat was stronger than this_ , she thought. The dressmakers probably thought her insane.

"It is beautiful" was all Brienne could say, stunned at how unintentionally  _meaningful_ the dress was. She smiled her thanks timidly at the women around her, noticing for the first time their sympathetic smiles, and the pride in their eyes. 

"It is exactly how Ser Jaime requested" one said, causing the smile on Brienne's red and blotchy face to turn to a look of utmost shock. "Ser Jaime?" she spluttered, her heart beating quickly. _Surely not..._

"Yes, my lady" another began, laughing slightly at Brienne's stunned expression. "He told us about your... old allegiances to the North, particularly Lady Catelyn Stark. He said to keep it in mind when designing the dress-"

"Though, discretely" another interrupted, a frown in the previous speaker's direction. "We know it wouldn't be very well received if anybody noticed." She smiled kindly at Brienne. "He said you were unhappy about the feast, my lady, and he wanted you to feel more comfortable about attending it."

Brienne's shocked expression never faded.

"So... we took inspiration from things that he said made you comfortable. At home, so to speak. The stars and the crescent moon were taken from your sigil, Lady Tarth, and the overall style is very similar to those worn in the North, by Lady Catelyn."

"We did make it slightly more modern, however" the third chimed in, beaming with pride at the success of their most recent creation. "The flowers are very popular at the moment, mostly thanks to Lady Margaery I'd say - they're all about flowers and things in Highgarden - and the neckline is perhaps only slightly less modest than Lady Cat's might have been." 

Brienne's eyes never left the dress. It became more and more blurred as the tears in her eyes swam, though the sheer sentiment of it touched her heart more than she could ever begin to explain. Jaime's face filled her mind, and admiration and simple  _thankfulness_ filled her body and she longed to hold him, and tell him how much it had meant to her.

Before she knew what was happening, the dressmakers were slipping the gown over her soft, pale skin, before they all stepped back, adoring smiles etched upon each of their faces. 

"A perfect fit" one smiled, green eyes twinkling happily.

"So, very unique" another said, a look of wonder upon her face. "You truly do look beautiful, lady Tarth. An enchanting medium between the capital and the North."

The others nodded in agreement. Brienne smiled warmly at each of them.

It shocked even her, but she actually rather  _liked_ the feeling of the soft silk against her bare skin. The bodice, below the top layer of the dress, was fitted and nipped her waist in tightly, making her look distinctively more feminine. The neckline was, as one of the dressmakers had said, slightly lower than was the norm for that style of dress, and accented her small breasts in a way that made them look significantly larger. Her neck and the top of her chest were the only parts of her skin that were exposed, as the rest of the dress trailed heavily to the floor, a small train trailing the floor behind her. It was covered in symbols that meant the world to her, and was far more comfortable than she'd been expecting.

"Would you like to look, Lady Brienne?" one of the dressmakers asked softly, holding her hand out for Brienne's, before guiding her gently down from the stool she stood upon to stand in front of a floor-length mirror.

Brienne didn't quite manage to stifle the gasp of shock that left her mouth as she saw her reflection. 

She'd never been beautiful; her nickname in childhood of 'Brienne The Beauty' had been sarcastic, and cruel at best - but for once in her life, she truly felt something close to beauty. She was obviously larger than most females - her broad shoulders, wide hips, towering height and short hair ideal with regards to the warrior path she'd chosen in life - and, though she often felt pangs of sadness and jealousy each time she saw a beautiful woman, she'd been relatively happy with her body and frame.

Yet now, as she saw the way the dress hugged each curve of her body, she felt a surge of excitement and pride.

She turned her back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder at the back of her dress. It was embroidered like the rest of the dress, but plain in design - though, for just a split second, she could almost see a long auburn braid trailing elegantly down her back... 

"Do you like it, Lady Brienne?" 

She smiled genuinely and warmly, her eyes sparkling with fresh tears.

"More than you can ever know."


	13. Familiar

**Brienne**

Draping the dress over her arm, Brienne left the dressmakers in mind of returning to her room to deposit it before fitting in a few hours in the training yard, before she inevitably had to prepare herself for 'her' nameday feast.

She grimaced, imagining her entrance... though  _she_ would undoubtedly be happy with her appearance (thanks to the dress, she'd look far more beautiful than she usually did), she knew the reception she'd get from everyone else wouldn't be quite so pleasant. She flushed, imagining their laughter, their sneering faces. 

She'd long ago given up attempting to dress (or act) as a lady 'should' - it just wasn't worth the hassle it gave her. Ungainly and large as she was, people had been telling her all her life that she simply didn't  _fit_ as a lady. They'd laughed when she'd tried to dress like one, and ridiculed her efforts and appearance. "A man trying to be a woman" they'd called her. She'd cried many a tear over it, but those days were long gone, and ceased to bother her for the most part.

When she'd first met Jaime, they had all come crashing back. 

 _"Is that a woman?"_ He'd asked Catelyn Stark incredulously, the first time he'd seen her. His following insults over their journey back to King's Landing reminded her more and more of the men who'd taunted her throughout her whole life. But then... she smiled, remembering what she'd said to him in light of the subject and reveling in the truth of it.

" _All my life men like you've sneered at me, and all my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust."_

A satisfied smile on her face, she pressed on towards her chambers. She'd never had an easy time of it, and tonight would, undoubtedly, be no different. But she was strong enough to get through it. She'd been through worse.

"Brienne of Tarth?!" a surprised voice shouted out distantly from behind her, making her smile drop instantly in recognition of it. She grimaced as she turned.

"It  _is_ you!" the man laughed, jogging to where she stood. 

It was none other than Hyle Hunt, a man she hadn't seen since becoming a member of Renly's Kingsguard.  _Speak of the Devil_ , she thought ironically. He'd been one of the first to ridicule her appearance and intentions the last time they'd spoken. 

"What do you want, Hunt?" she asked tightly, her mouth a thin line as she continued her journey.

"Many things, woman." He smiled. "But I expect you mean-- is that a dress?!"

His voice was incredulous as he spotted the dress folded neatly over her arm. She responded, but did not look at him.

"Yes. Women sometimes wear one. Judging by the way you attempt to fight, I'm surprised you're not more familiar."

He laughed, shaking his head in shock. "Still so aggressive, I see! I meant no offense, dear lady. May I ask whom it's for? To apologize for irritating you, I'll take it there myself, and save you the journey."

Her mind went blank, and for a few seconds, she didn't know what to say. "The dress is mine."

His silence was stunned. "Surely not?" he laughed eventually, a look of disbelief upon his plain face. "Why in Seven Hells would _you_ wear--"

She pulled up short and turned to face him.

"The dress is mine, idiot, and was designed for me specifically by none other than Ser Jaime himself. If you have an issue with it, I suggest strongly that you take it up with him."

His eyes were wide with shock, and his mocking smile slowly faded from his lips. She flushed lightly, surprised at herself; she hadn't meant to bring up Jaime. It felt odd, discussing a part of her new life with a part of her old. It was almost confusing.

"Kingslayer bought you a dress, did he?" he sneered, kicking a rock on the floor near his foot.

"Yes, he bought me a dress, and if you call him Kingslayer one more time then you'll have every right to call me Hyleslayer. What is it that you want?"

He ignored her question entirely, a look of tired resignation clouding his face.

"Oh, Brienne. Why do you do it to yourself?"

She said nothing, confusion on her face. He sighed.

"Always falling for the unattainable ones, aren't you? First Renly, now the Kingsl-- I mean,  _Ser Jaime_ " he said, the last two words mocking and complete with an eye roll.

Her face grew red. "I have fallen for no one, Hunt, and if you continue to--"

"Oh, give it a rest woman" he waved his hand at her dismissively, though it only sparked her temper even more.

"Just take some advice for once in your life, will you? Take what you're offered and run."

She drew a deep breath, ready to combat his useless riddles with a few choice words of her own when he spoke again.

"I didn't go about it the right way, before. I admit that." He said, a little more soberly than before. "And I apologize. But... I did mean it, Brienne. I would marry you if you accepted."

She sneered, looking away from him and the scar that ran from his eye to his chin. "You would marry Tarth, you mean. Were I not my father's only heir, you wouldn't be interested. And believe me when I say that _neither am I._ "

"Fine, go after your Golden Knights and Kings with their sparkling eyes and crowns and now their golden hair. Maybe when they've finished fucking their sister, they'll spare you a glance--"

The rest of his sentence was cut off abruptly, as Brienne's fist snapped forward strongly, connecting aggressively with his jaw.

He laughed, rubbing his jaw, as she pulled her hand back in shock. "Ok. Maybe I deserved that."

"There's no maybe about it." She replied, distaste thick in her voice.

"Just... think about it. So it isn't about love. What is, these days? It's more than I dare say you'll ever get."

In Hyle's eyes, the insults he continued to hurl at Brienne weren't insults at all - merely facts. 

"I'd rather have nothing" she said decisively, walking away from him in the direction of her chambers.

"You'll never have him" he called after her, his voice thick with amusement. Her heart sank as lowly as her self esteem, as she realized all over again just how true that was. 

"I do not want him, Hyle Hunt" she called back stubbornly, without turning her head.

"I'll be at your nameday feast. You owe me a dance"

She only just heard his last sentence, as her strides were long and he was quickly fading into the distance. 

She rolled her eyes. _Bloody dance_ , she thought irritatedly. She didn't know how to dance, and even if she did, she'd rather dance with Grand Maester Pycelle than an idiot like him.

She hadn't always felt that way about him, though. There was a time in her life, when she'd only just joined Renly's ranks, when she considered him a friend; he'd given her apples and carrots to feed her horses with, and took the time to speak to her when everyone else saw more fit to mock her. But then she'd found out the reason - that it was all just a wager. A bet to see which of Renly's men would manage to take 'Big Brienne's' maidenhead. And he, obviously, wanted very much to win. After that, she'd ignored him completely, guarding herself more carefully than she had before. He'd even offered to marry her, though she was far too disgusted with his real motives behind befriending her to even spare the suggestion a second of consideration. 

She scowled as she walked, her mood turning more and more sour with each passing second. The whole ordeal with the dress had weakened her resolve with regards to distancing herself from Jaime; she missed him more than she could understand, and his kindness towards her and his thoughtfulness in the dress design made her want to wrap her arms around him and... her thoughts trailed off, and a blush covered her face. 

But now, she'd come to her senses again. Even other people were reminding her how stupid she was in allowing herself to feel how she did for him. Her feelings hadn't changed, of course, but it had been a large wake up call.

She would thank him for the dress and its intricate design with a smile and a nod, then go about her business until she was free to leave this hole of a city. It hurt more than she cared to acknowledge, but she knew it was the right thing to do. All she had to do was get through the feast.


	14. Adorably, Dangerously, Obvious

**Jaime**

Dressed in his smartest tunic - golden cream in colour, laced with red thread embroidery just above his heart in the shape of the Lannister Lion, he waited at the entrance to the Great Sept, looking for any sign of Brienne. His white cloak of the Kingsguard, which he'd worn more to make a point than to accentuate his outfit, trailed lightly down his back, and every golden hair upon his head had been combed perfectly into place.

He glanced down at his golden hand with a twitch of sadness. His long flowing locks had vanished along with his fighting hand, and he felt a shadow of what he once was, as he stood awkwardly waiting for his friend.

The sun was beginning to set, and people were filing in by the hundreds. Some bowed as they passed him, some batted their eyelashes and smiled hopefully, and others were too deep in conversation to notice him at all. But each guest was dressed formally, and for the most part appeared elegant and beautiful to behold.

He wondered absently if Brienne would look beautiful in the dress he'd bought her.  _Probably not_ , he smirked. He wouldn't have put it past the stubborn wench to turn up in a suit of armor in protest. 

He wished he'd managed to find her before the feast; he'd wanted to ask why she'd been so distant, but, as well as that, make sure she knew how to act during the feast so that neither of them would get into even more bloody trouble than they were already in. But when he'd visited her room, she wasn't there. She wasn't at the dressmakers either when he checked, though they'd smiled at one another meaningfully and simply said that she'd collected the dress when he asked after her. He didn't know what to make of their strange behaviour, so checked the training yard straight after, though she wasn't there either.

After that he'd bumped into Tyrion, the one sibling he'd always gotten on with, and, giving up on finding the woman, agreed to a cup or three of wine with his youngest brother before dressing for the feast.

Now, here he was, hoping to intercept her before she entered.  _If she has enough decency to bloody turn up at all_ , he thought irritatedly.

"Good evening, Ser Jaime" a chorus of female voices sounded, followed by a few seconds of giggling. A small group of women had approached him - each dressed more finely than the one before her - and were looking at him pointedly, their smiles ranging from shy, to suggestive, to teasing, to knowing. It was the knowing smile on which his eyes lingered.

She was a relatively pretty girl, he supposed. She'd definitely be considered attractive by most men in King's Landing. The air of confidence she carried with her told him that she knew as much, as well. Her eyes were full of words he couldn't quite understand, and her smile seemed to be hiding a thousand secrets. It irritated him, in honesty; he felt she knew something he didn't. She wasn't batting her eyes, or giggling incessantly, or twirling her hair around her finger as she surveyed him. Her presence made him uncomfortable, and despite her beauty, he found himself averting his eyes.

"Good evening, ladies. I don't suppose you have seen my friend? Lady Brienne of Tarth? Only, it would appear she's gotten lost on her way here."

His sentence - boring and simple though it was - caused the women to giggle nervously, smiling at one another as though they were having the time of their lives. He understood it though, of course; he knew what he was doing. He could make the dullest of sentences enough to drive any woman mad, when he put the silky purr he was so used to using in his voice.

He'd tried it on Brienne a few times on the road. Not for any reason but to laugh at how uncomfortable it made her; she'd seem torn between punching him or yielding to his playful advances, and watching her battle with the dilemma amused him greatly. He smiled at the memory.

"I'm afraid not, Ser Jaime" the woman with the suggestive smile replied loudly.  _Another confident one_ , he thought disinterestedly. The women had amused him for a few minutes, but he grew tired of them quickly. He wondered how he could best get rid of them without being rude.

"Well, enjoy the feast, ladies. You all look magnificent."

More giggles, louder this time. "As do you, Ser. Perhaps you'd honor one of us with a dance, after the feast?"

His charming smile faded, and irritation coursed through him. Why would he want to dance with any of these pretentious women? 

"I expect you'll have to join a queue!" he said with a wink, turning away from them in the hope that when he turned around, they'd have sodded off. Gods, women were bloody irritating. Their laughter faded as they walked away, and when he turned from them, his heart stopped.

Striding towards him elegently (Yes - elegently - he couldn't quite believe the word fitted her description, either) was Brienne, the dress he'd designed for her more beautiful than any he'd seen on any woman in his entire life. The way it hugged each curve of her body made him ache to hold her, and the  _colour_ of it against her smooth, pale skin...

Though her hips were wide, the dress sheathed them perfectly, and highlighted the toned flatness of her stomach and the smallness of her waist as it clung and dropped in all the right places. The Sapphire at her navel was an exact match to the gorgeous blue of her eyes, and the Northern style of the dress made her look more sophisticated and elegant than any woman he'd seen. Never in his life - in either Dorne, Winterfell, Highgarden, King's Landing, anywhere - had he seen a dress quite like it. It was spectacular, made out of the finest silks and threads - but was styled in the most  _unique_ way. Just like Brienne was. The match was more perfect than he'd ever considered. 

His face flushed involuntarily as her eyes were drawn to her breasts, which were accented as beautifully as her slim waste and toned stomach. The dress covered her legs, shimmying down to the floor and trailing behind her gracefully with each step she took, and the billowing sleeves at her side made her look more like a goddess than the masculine friend he'd come to know. The intricacy of the embroidery was a perfect match to the intricacy and complexity of Brienne herself, and the air of self-confidence that accompanied her made his heart swell with pride.

She was still his Brienne, he thought, as his heart sprang back into life, beating a thousand times quicker than it usually did. She was pale and broad and tall, but, Seven Hells, she was  _beautiful._

Her usually slicked back hair had been allowed to dry naturally, and though obviously short, framed her face in blonde, delecately loose curls, and as she drew closer, he started to notice the differences upon her face. For one, a smile that she couldn't quite stop from spreading (trying though she obviously was) was making the corners of her mouth twitch, and her beautiful blue eyes held a happiness he'd never seen there before. Her freckles were barely noticeable, having been covered by a substance which made her supple, soft skin appear even smoother than usual, and her lips had the very lightest twinge of red to them. Her eyes sparkled as she approached him, and the setting sun made the cream layer beneath the blue glitter and shimmer in a way that caused his eyes to linger upon it for far too long.

She stopped before him, blushing beautifully beneath her makeup. Sophisticated, intelligent, mature, and actually  _worth_ something in ways that all the surrounding sheltered women could never hope to be, stood his beautiful best friend. And, Gods, was she beautiful. 

Extending a hand towards his face in a way that made his heart stop again, she nudged his chin gently with her thumb and forefinger, effectively shutting his mouth which hung open gormlessly. He shivered at her warm touch, though he did his very best to conceal it. She smiled at him tentatively. He gaped at her wordlessly.

"Well, I do hope your silence is a positive thing" she teased playfully, the knowing smile on her lips and in her eyes telling him that she knew all too well that it was.

"You-" he tried, clearing his throat when barely any noise came out, "You look... absolutely beautiful, Brienne."

She looked at her feet shyly, that perfect smile playing across her beautifully broad lips.

"Why, thank you, Ser Jaime" she replied as she looked back up, her smile growing wider. "As do you."

He smiled as his face grew hot, and was sent into a flurry of nervousness as his mind became empty of words to say. All he could do was marvel at how, not just beautiful, but...  _appealing_ , she was. As much as the dress and the makeup, it was the confidence and the happiness she had about her. He'd always thought she looked more beautiful when she smiled.

People were passing the two as they stopped just before the gates, saying nothing, but staring at each other with tentative smiles on their faces and blushes in their cheeks, that only said one thing.

Neither of them noticed anyone else; not for the first time since they'd met, they only had eyes for each other... though never had it been quite so adorably, but also _dangerously_ obvious.

 


	15. Simply Euphoric

**Brienne**

Excitement tingled through her body, seeing the way he looked at her. 

 _He's even blushing!_ She thought, surpressing the urge to giggle. She must look even better than she thought.

As a handmaiden had appeared at her door at just the right time, and put strange things on her face and done strange things with her hair, she'd begun to feel more and more beautiful. Then she put the dress on, and... 

Her smile grew wider. She felt fantastic. 

Seeing Jaime - sarcastic, always-had-something-to-say Jaime - lost for words upon seeing her had made her feel even  _more_ so. 

Not that he didn't look fantastic himself; Gods, he looked wonderful. He always did, but in cream and red, cleaned up, with every golden hair combed into place... he looked like a God himself! She, too, had been a little lost for words when she first saw him.

The feelings of admiration, nervousness and elation towards Jaime, mixed with feelings of pride, excitement and confidence towards herself, made for an excellent concoction that affected her in the same way wine would soon affect Jaime. 

His presence was intoxicating. It made her smile until her cheeks started to ache, although even then she couldn't stop.

They stared at each other for what felt like seconds, though in reality was longer, until at last, he cleared his throat (almost... nervously?) and offered her his arm.

"My lady?"

She grinned back as her heart started to race at a pace so fast that she was sure it had to be dangerous, but she took his arm almost as soon as it was offered, feeling so happy she felt her heart would burst.

 _I look like his lady_ , she thought with rising excitement. 

Sure enough, other people thought the same, and every head that saw them snapped to their direction as they strode elegantly and importantly through the crowds. 

Jaime was almost like a King, she realized as the crowds parted for them. He grinned graciously, and men smiled back, though the eyes of most women lingered upon her - and not all were friendly.

In truth, she couldn't have cared any less if her life had depended on it. Her arm was entwined with Jaime's, and he walked so closely to her that she occasionally even felt their legs brush, and it felt like fire and electricity that shot up her body each time it happened. The smile she wore never left her face, and she beamed at every person she saw, not taking any notice of their reactions. 

 _This feels like a dream_ , she thought, feeling like she'd explode with joy at any moment. She wanted to laugh, or scream, or even shout. It was simply euphoria.

But instead, she clung to Jaime's arm, inhaling his intoxicating scent as the warm summer breeze occasionally blew it towards her direction. Spicy, woody, Jaime... 

A sudden urge to wrap her arms around him almost overpowered her, so she took more notice of the faces around them by way of distraction. Until of course, she saw Jaime looking at her in the corner of her eye... It became very hard then, so she dared a peek in his direction.

The look on his face was almost one of awe. Adoration. His smile had turned soft, and his eyes even softer.

Her grin somehow even wider, and her heart soaring even higher, she tactfully looked away from his gaze and began to wave at the people they passed. They waved back, and she laughed. Some curtsied, and some even moved as if to speak to her, but Jaime's elegant stride never slowed, and she was all too happy to enter the feast if it would feel that good.

She felt light; weightless, in fact. But more than that, she felt loved. By the people that saw her, and even...?

She hardly dared to think it. But the way he'd looked at her before... Could it be true?

They entered the Sept just as the sun began to set, arm in arm, smiling from ear to ear like utter idiots. 

In those moments, she loved everything. The swish of the dress she'd been dreading wearing around her ankles. The smell of the summer air, thick with the scent of the flowers that grew around the sept... She'd hated them at first, but perhaps they weren't that bad. Jaime's arm was intertwined with her own, in the same way that she felt her own soul had become intertwined with his. The sept was beautiful. He was beautiful. And for once - just once, in all her life - so was she.

They entered the sept, and she marvelled at its beauty. Paintings of the seven pointed star, and statues of the Seven themselves, decorated the main sanctum chamber, which had been filled with chairs and tables lined with food and wine of many different variations. Jaime had always said Dornish wine was the best; she made a mental note to try it, even though she'd never been fond of wine. Her spirits were that high, that she didn't care.

So many candles, that she couldn't even begin to count, lit up the fantastic chamber showing all of its splendor, and the hundreds of men and women filing into the room only made it look even more wonderful.

The dresses, the jewels, the elaborate southern hairstyles... She looked around herself in awe. She'd never expected this happening to her, at any point in her life. She'd never expected to be standing so beautifully, so comfortable within her own skin, so confident or so happy. Or linking arms with the most sought after Knight in the Seven Kingdoms...

She squeezed his arm to gain his attention, but when she turned, he was already looking at her. His eyes still had the softness to them that they'd held before, and his lips showed the ghost of a smile. She longed to press her own against them so badly that it almost made her ache, but instead, she simply smiled and said "thank you."

He smiled back warmly, shaking his head as he chuckled slightly, as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed and shivered at his touch, and her skin almost burned where his hands had been, but she never stopped smiling.

Their eyes met - sparkling blue on shining green - and words that neither would ever dare to say were suddenly more obvious to anyone who saw the exchange than either would dare to believe.

Onlookers smiled, nudging each other and nodding their heads in the direction of the most in-love couple to ever set foot inside the sept. Even though they didn't know it, everybody else did.

Including Cersei Lannister, who stood, shrouded by shadows, watching her beloved brother fall head over heels in love with someone else. Her face held traces of pain, betrayal, bitterness and even sadness, but it was the look of dangerous, hateful rage across her features that Tyrion Lannister noticed. He walked over to his sister, a wise and knowing look upon his face.

His height (or lack of) was perhaps what prevented Cersei from noticing his arrival. Or perhaps, it was simply that she was too busy seething in Jaime and Brienne's direction; gritting her teeth and curling her hands into fists tighter and tighter with each adoring look towards them that she saw.

"Can you not just allow him to be happy?" Tyrion asked, his voice sincere for a change, empty of its usual sarcasm. Cersei's eyes never left the two, and the hateful look across her beautiful features never faded.

"Never." She replied strongly, her teeth still locked together. "She will never have him."


	16. Women

**Jaime**

His eyes swept the crowds before him, as he searched for a face he knew. It was Tyrion's he found first, and as their eyes met, his younger brother held up his cup of wine in greeting. Jaime smiled back, but couldn't rid himself of the worry he felt upon noticing Tyrion's carefully concealed look of warning as their eyes had connected.

He frowned, looking away from Tyrion, and loosened his grip on Brienne's arm. She was smiling at the people around them, a radiant blush upon her cheeks, but immediately looked to him once she'd felt him start to gently release her arm.

Her smile faded instantly. "What's wrong?"

"I need to speak with Tyrion. There's something he needs to tell me." His voice was low, and only just loud enough for her to hear as he leaned closer to her ear.

Brienne nodded wordlessly, her blush fading until she actually looked more pale than she usually did. Within seconds of him dropping her arm, Cersei approached, the great Lion Tywin Lannister closely behind her. He  _just_ managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes as his sister stepped directly in front of him, effectively stopping him from reaching his younger brother. Brienne stepped closer to his side, her stance starting to resemble the one she took up when fighting. 

"Brother, there you are" Cersei said smugly, clasping her hands together as she beamed at him triumphantly. "We have been looking for you. Father has some news for you."

Her smug gaze turned to the steely one of their father, whose eyes raked over his body critically. Dread filled his body. Cersei being happy was never a good thing.

The voices of the guests began to grow quieter, as one by one, they noticed the events unfolding before them. Before long, crowds had gathered around the four of them, and silence fell upon the room.

"This is Lady Ambre Knott, of House Knott, of course." Cersei laughed falsely, clearly not allowing their father's reluctant silence on whatever subject was at hand to deter her. Jaime's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until a woman stepped around Cersei, a familiarly knowing smile edging on her shaped, red lips.

Realization coursed through him. The knowing girl, who'd approached him as he'd waited for Brienne. The one whose eyes looked to hold secrets. Clearly, whatever was going on was a part of her smugness.  _Looks as though she does know something I don't, after all._

Dread replaced realization, as the obviousness of what was happening seeped into his brain. He knew his family well. And even if he didn't, it didn't take a genius to guess what was going on.

"You are to marry Lady Ambre. She will be the Lady of Casterly Rock, where you will reside upon resigning from your post as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. You will instead produce an heir, and carry forward the family name, as is your duty as a Lannister."

Jaime said nothing. He simply didn't know where to start.

"She is very beautiful, cousin" Lancel laughed, breaking the silence, in the same smug tone his sister used. Jaime watched as she smiled her thanks, sickeningly sweet, though he could tell it was false.

 _They've staged it well. I can't well refuse here,_  he thought bitterly, looking from the triumphant eyes of Cersei - which grew colder with each passing second of silence, warnings flashing in them - to those of his father, which were as steely and calculating as ever. He saw Tyrion had joined the gathering, though his eyes were different - they were almost pleading with Jaime; pleading with him to do the sensible thing. 

He supposed the girl was beautiful, in an obvious sort of way. He'd thought that when he saw her, but it didn't interest him personally. Seven Hells, it didn't make him want to  _marry_ the woman. He didn't even know her. She was petite, and feminine; slender and curved, but in a soft, vulnerable kind of way. Petite, dark-haired. Small featured, fragile.  _The opposite to Brienne._

He found himself wanting to reach for Brienne, then; she was the strength he needed, as hundreds of pairs of eyes bore down on him expectantly. She always had been his strength, now he thought about it; so many times had he wanted to give up - when he'd lost his hand, and when Catelyn Stark had been killed and there was no one to return her daughters to - and each time, it had been her who pulled him through it. Who gave him the strength and courage he needed to get through it and be strong. He needed her to do that now. He supposed he always would.

_He always would._

Realization hit him, and he felt like he'd walked head on into a stone wall. In those few seconds, he knew precisely who he wanted to marry. Who he'd be more than happy to abandon his post as Lord Commander for. Who he'd happily spend the rest of his life cooped up inside Casterly Rock with... and it wasn't the woman standing in front of him.

Am...yre, or Amber, or whatever the bloody hell her name was.

He turned to look at Brienne, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach as he read the panic and heart-wrenching misery in her wide blue eyes. 

He'd have to go along with his family's wishes there and then; he didn't even want to imagine the hell he'd be in for if he embarrassed them in so public a situation - it would have been plain stupid. He'd have to change things; bargain with his father, or whoever else he had to. He'd sort things. But for now...

He decided what his next move would be, and looked at her as intensely as he could - trying to convey to her eyes from his own the things he knew he couldn't say out loud. 

_I love you, Brienne. I won't marry her. I love you._

And he did. Of course he did. He smiled as he turned from Brienne, wondering how in the Seven Kingdoms he hadn't realized it sooner. Nobody else understood him like she did, and he understood nobody else the way he did her. Simply being around her made him happier than anything else in the entire world did, and he craved her presence constantly - not being able to push her from his mind when he couldn't attain it. Her emotions, more than not, became his emotions - and he felt more protective over her, little though she needed his protection, than he felt of anyone else in his entire life. She was beautiful, as she stood beside him; truly, she was. But it didn't matter how she looked. She was good - good, and honorable, and mature, and intelligent, and kind hearted, and honest. And above all, the brought those characteristics out in him. She truly cared for him as much as he did her. She wanted what was good and right, and had saved him on more than one occasion.  _Of course I love the stupid wench._ _  
_

Smiling like a fool, he stepped away from her, removing his cloak of the Kingsguard and placing it gently around the shoulders of his betrothed.

The crowds burst into cheers of happiness, and Cersei's smile was wide and triumphant - though the coldness in her eyes showed it to be more false than the air of politeness she wore about her. Tywin said nothing, but continued to eye his eldest son sternly, nodding his head in recognition that Jaime had done the right thing. Not that he'd been given much choice. Tyrion didn't look at him at all, but smiled sympathetically at Brienne.

Now that he'd noticed it, several people frowned at the poor woman sadly, and he followed their gaze to his beautiful best friend as Am--whatever her name was, took his hand.

Her eyes were wide and were sparkling with fresh tears, and her jaw was locked tightly into place. Her gaze went to the new couple's joined hands, and she closed them in reaction.

His heart twisted with misery. He'd always said he'd kill anyone who made her feel that way. He'd never dreamt he'd be the one to do it. He felt helpless, every fiber of his being yearning to run to her and hold her and kiss her and comfort her. But he couldn't.  _Not yet_ , he thought miserably. He, again, tried to convey the truth to her through his eyes. 

Music blared out as the musicians sprang into life, and people began to dance and sing and drink and laugh, in celebration of the news of another Royal Wedding.

His view of Brienne was cut off, as his sister strode powerfully over to her. His stomach dropped. She looked like a bloody Lion ready to pounce on her prey.

He didn't move; he couldn't - but he strained his ears past the music and his voices, to hear what Cersei said.

"I told you to be careful, Lady Brienne." She said, coldly, before walking away in that effortlessly graceful way she had. 

He once again stood before Brienne, though she sheepishly wiped away the tears that betrayed her, and turned on her heel without so much as another glance.

"Brienne-" he called after her, but he knew it was no use. Though once again, it was all he wanted, he knew he couldn't chase after her. Tywin's steely glare reminded him of that much, as he'd looked helplessly around the room. He eyed his father disgustedly, cursing him inside his head, furious and miserable all at the same time. 

His supposed-to-be-wife tugged on his hand harshly, snapping him back to the Sept. His mind had disappeared with Brienne.

"Dance with me, my love!" 

He stared at her silently, not processing what she'd said, until she laughed and rolled her eyes, and placed his hand onto her waist. 

Every touch, every look, felt unspeakably wrong. He itched to leave the Sept. Presuming, of course, Brienne had retired to her chambers.

 _I wouldn't blame the poor woman_ , he thought bitterly.  _Neither Cersei or father will care. She's learnt her lesson, now; she's served her purpose._

Gods, he needed a drink. Stepping away from whatever-her-name-was (he made a mental note to find out), he looked towards a flagon on a table at the far side of the room, ignoring the fact that there were several much closer by.

"I'm going to get a cup of wine, my lady. Would you drink with me?"

Her initial look of annoyance at his refusal to continue their dance turned to a look of smugness, and she nodded her head wordlessly.

Thankful for the alone-time, he paced as slowly as he could get away with towards the other side of the room... though, when he did, he found himself standing before a very irritated looking Sansa.

"You're an idiot" she said simply yet seriously. Her face was expressionless, and she sighed as she walked past him, and he watched her disappear from the Sept. He shook his head, rubbing his temples with his hands.

_Women._

 


	17. "I Must Be Bloody Mad"

**Brienne**

The cool King's Landing breeze was cold against her flushed skin, and her tears stung her face as she burst out of the Sept, and into the Summer evening air.

_How had everything changed so quickly?_

As quickly as the cracks in her heart and self esteem had been healed by his smiles and his blushes, they had splintered apart again. Maybe some things simply were too good to be true; it had felt more like a dream from the start.

She squeezed her eyes shut.  _If I'm having a nightmare, please let me wake from it now._

She didn't wake, however; when she opened her eyes, everything was the same, and she felt just as miserable and dejected as she did before her silent prayer.  _What good are the Gods if they inflict such misery?_ She thought bitterly, eyeing the Sept before her with serious contempt.

Images of Jaime's hand intertwined with Ambre's filled her head, causing searing hot shoots of pain to stab through her body. Her heart ached, and it was becoming harder and harder to control the desire to slump to the ground and cry out her sorrows with each passing second.

 _If I can just get to my chambers_ , she thought weakly, beginning to slowly put one foot in front of the other,  _I can let it all out. I can cry._

No sooner had she taken two steps from the Sept when a feminine, quiet voice stopped her.

"Lady Brienne" the voice said, and she turned abruptly, shock almost knocking her to the ground. Long, auburn hair; a graceful, willowy figure... _  
_

"C--" the girl stepped forwards, and logic caught up to Brienne and her broken, hopeful heart, as she realized the girl was none other than Sansa Stark. _Gods, she looked like her mother._ How did she even know who she was?  _I suppose I'm more of a curiosity in this place than I'd first thought._

Wiping her tears away quickly, she recomposed herself, bowing as Sansa approached her.

"Good evening, my Lady. Are you well?"

Sansa smiled weakly, a distance in her eyes that made Brienne sad, and nodded her head.

"I'm fine, thank you. There's no need to bow. I was just wondering... if you were alright? I saw what happened..."

She trailed off, not quite knowing what to say, and Brienne paled, embarrassed at how obvious her feelings must have been. That was another thing she'd be crying about later.

She smiled warmly at the girl, genuinely thankful that she'd been kind enough to inquire about her feelings. Her appreciation numbed the misery, somewhat.

"I'm fine, my Lady. Thank you very much for asking."

Sansa smiled softly, clearly not wanting to press the subject. She was so soft, and feminine, Brienne thought. So kind. It was a testament to the girl that the hardships she'd endured in her life hadn't turned her cold. Her eyes, caring, though distant, were startlingly similar to Cat's; it was almost unnerving. The same shade of blue, the same shape. It made Brienne both happy and sad somehow at the same time.

"You look very much like your mother." She said, smiling warmly.

The distance left Sansa's eyes as she beamed back, more beautiful each time she smiled. "Thank you. I thought that about you, when you arrived earlier."

Brienne blushed, shock making her heart beat faster. "Me, my Lady?" she asked, stunned. She couldn't think of anyone she looked like less.

Sansa laughed. "Yes, Brienne, you! You look beautiful this evening. I know my mother would have thought so, too. Your dress looks just like the ones she used to wear."

Fresh tears swam in Brienne's eyes, as she extended her hand towards Sansa, showing her the solitary fish in the embroidery upon her sleeve. Sansa's eyes widened.

"I served your mother, before she was taken from us. I met her when I fought for Renly, and she came to speak for your brother, Robb. When Renly was killed, she knew I'd be blamed... and she took care of me, and got me away from the madness of it all before they could hang me, or worse."

The cool breeze ruffled Brienne's hair around her face, and Sansa had to tuck hers behind her ears to stop it from blowing into her wide, Tully eyes.

"I resided in Robb's camp, in service to your mother, from that day forward. Jaime Lannister was their prisoner at that time, but your mother released him..." Her eyes grew distant, as she remembered it all.

"She commanded that I escort Jaime back to King's Landing, to exchange him for you and your sister, Arya. I was then to take the two of you back to your mother, where you'd be safe and protected."

Sansa's eyes had grown slightly misty, and Brienne's had too.

"I've remained here, despite the fact that the oath I made to your mother can no longer be kept, because I feel that you can still be taken to someone who will protect you. I intend to find your sister, and take you both to your brother on the wall."

Sansa's eyes lit up, and her face became as bright as the sun. She smiled widely.

"I will come with you to find Arya. Will you really take me away from here? Will you really take us to Jon?"

Brienne smiled. "Jaime said he'd talk his father around. He's very different to how he once was, you know. I've experienced firsthand what an... idiot, he could be."  _Jaime..._

Her heart splintered into pieces again.

"And I suppose now that Cersei's made her point, nobody will have much use for me around here. I expect they'll be glad to see the back of me. And even if they don't agree, my Lady... You will not suffer here any longer." Her voice caught in her throat at her last sentence, and Sansa reached for her hand in response. She smiled her thanks kindly, no words needed to display her feelings when she held Brienne's hand as tightly as she did. 

"You're far more beautiful than Ambre." She said at last, rolling her eyes as she turned back to look at the Sept. 

Brienne laughed, almost a little hysterically, and wiped her eyes again. "Thank you, my Lady, but there's really no need to be so kind. She is more fit to be his wife than I could ever be."

It felt odd, admitting how she felt for Jaime at long last. She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone else. But Sansa seemed to just, well,  _know_ , and she was too exhausted there and then to pretend she was crying for a different reason. Hells, she couldn't even think of one from the top of her head. She'd been so, so happy.

_ Which was stupid in itself _ , she thought bitterly. There was a reason she'd been distancing herself from him. It was simply a recipe for disaster; she knew from the start that he would never want her, or need her, or love her, so why did it hurt so bloody much when she saw evidence of it? If she knew it from the beginning, why did it cause her so much pain?

She supposed her resolve had been weakened when she'd seen the dress. So unspeakably thoughtful; so considerate. He knew her so well. And then when she'd seen him, and how handsome he'd looked as he stood outside the Sept... and the way he'd looked at  _her._ It felt like more than friendship. She'd felt sure his feelings had changed.  _Obviously, I was wrong._

"I disagree. She's very irritating, and rather stupid. I always imagine Arya's reaction when she says something silly." She laughed slightly, and it made Brienne laugh, too, even though she'd never met Arya. Sansa's fondness towards her sister was truly beautiful to behold.

"Will you come back inside with me?" Sansa asked, after Brienne grew quiet. 

Brienne's smile faded instantly, and she shook her head sadly as she looked at her feet. "I don't think it wise, my Lady. I do not wish to see Jaime or his new bride. Nor do I wish to speak to his sister, or anybody else for that matter. I think they've had their fair share of fun for today."

"But it's your Nameday Feast!" She whined, pulling Brienne's hand towards the Sept. "This is what they _want_ you to do. Don't you see?"

Brienne looked confused. Sansa looked exasperated. She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Didn't you see how Jaime looked at you? He doesn't  _want_ to marry her. It's so obvious! Like in the songs" she smiled, letting go of Brienne's hand. "He couldn't do much about it then, with everyone watching. But I  _know_ he wants you, Brienne. I just know it. Cersei thinks she's won, now that you've left. Show her that she hasn't!" Brienne's eyes widened as Sansa spoke. Her words made sense, but... did she really dare to hope again? _  
_

"My mother would want you to do it. She'd do anything to stop Cersei from winning. And she'd want you to be happy, I know it." She added in a small voice.

Brienne's face split into a nervous smile, and Sansa grinned back in shock. "You'll come back inside?"

Brienne nodded, her heart pounding.  _I must be bloody mad,_ she thought. 


	18. And They Wonder Why I Prefer Wearing Armour

**Brienne**

Brienne followed Sansa closely as they re-entered the Sept. She shuddered lightly, ignoring the urge to run as far away as she could as everyone who saw them eyed her curiously. She wasn't sure which was worse; their looks of confusion at her reappearance, or their looks of sympathy. She held her head up high, and decided to ignore them both.

"Would you like a drink?" Sansa asked quietly, smiling sweetly at Brienne as she sensed her feelings of unease. Brienne smiled back.

"I'm not all that fond of wine, my Lady. Thank you for asking."

Sansa's eyes widened, and she laughed in that girlish, delicate way she had. "I'm not that fond of it either! Everyone else seems to be obsessed with it. I used to like it, because it made me feel grown up to drink it. But I never really did like the taste." She rolled her eyes, and Brienne laughed in response. She felt a growing fondness towards Sansa; she was just so pure, and kind, and innocent. Up until that moment, she hadn't believed such a person could exist in a place like King's Landing.  _All the more reason to get her as far away from here as possible_ , she thought warily, as she cast her eyes around the room.

It really was a magnificent gathering; the Sept was more alive than any chamber she'd ever seen - music, singing, dancing, drinking, talking... the room seemed to be alive itself, and everyone inside it seemed to be having a truly wonderful time.  _Maybe I can still enjoy this_ , she thought to herself as she and Sansa surveyed the room.  _I still have my dress, and I can talk to Sansa. Maybe it won't be completely awful._

She laughed and turned to Sansa, ready to point out the ridiculousness of a hat which a man to their left was wearing, when she saw the look of shock upon the young girl's face. Brienne's own smile faded immediately, and she stepped closer to Sansa as she spoke quickly.

"Sansa, what is it? Are you alright?" 

"She's fine. I'd imagine she's simply shocked by my sudden appearance, is all" Jaime laughed, making Brienne almost lose her balance as she turned instinctively towards his voice.

She blushed in embarrassment at the sheer speed of which she'd turned to him. In that moment, as she looked at him, she'd never felt such a surreal rush of emotions. She felt sadness, as she remembered how he'd hurt her. Even though he hadn't meant to. Anger, at how he'd made her think he felt for her in a stronger way than friendship, which he clearly didn't. Embarrassment as she remembered the whole ordeal. And then... an unspeakably overpowering urge to fling herself into his arms and cry about the other three emotions. Instead, she gritted her teeth, kept her feet planted firmly on the ground, and nodded stiffly.

"Jaime." 

Sansa tugged on her sleeve gently to get her attention, before turning her back on Jaime as she faced Brienne. She looked at her pointedly, a smile playing on her lips. "I'll leave you to it. I'll be standing with Ser Loras, come and find me." Her voice was quiet, and she walked away smugly. 

 _So pure and naive. This isn't like your songs, Sansa. Jaime hasn't come to confess his undying love for me._ She laughed inside her head at the thought. 

She watched Sansa go, before turning at last to Jaime, who stood before her, regal and handsome as ever.

"What do you want, Jaime?"

His arrogant smile faded as he heard the notes of sadness and anger in her tone, and his eyes turned sad. 

"I wanted to apologise for... what happened earlier. You know I--"

"There's nothing to apoligise for." Brienne interrupted bluntly, never meeting his eyes.

Jaime frowned. "Brienne, I don't want to marry--"

"Someone like me? I think that was obvious from the beginning. You have nothing to apologise for, Ser Jaime. I wish you all the health and happiness in the world in your marriage to Lady Ambre."

Jaime closed his eyes, grimacing at her stubbornness. Clearly, he hadn't realised how deeply she felt for him. 

"Brienne, I do want to-"

"You've humiliated me quite enough this evening, if that would be all Ser? Only, if one more person casts a look of sympathy in my direction then I may not be held responsible for my own actions. The utter notion of it all is laughable, regardless. You'd never want to marry me, nor would I you."

Jaime's eyes widened in shock, and he stepped back, wounded.

"Is that right?" He asked, annoyance seeping into his tone.

"Of course. The two of us would be at each other's throats after a few days. Besides, I doubt you could ever love anyone as much as you do your own reflection."

Jaime sneered, shaking his head as he looked past her shoulder.

"Good thing I'm marrying Lady..." Brienne looked up in confusion after a few seconds, as he didn't complete his sentence. It was almost as if he'd forgotten her name.

" _Gods,_ Lady..." "Ambre?" "Of course" He replied, shaking his head with a frown. Brienne gaped at him in shock. 

"Surely you know your own wife's name--"

"She isn't my wife" he cut in, "yet. She will be, however, and she'll make a much better wife than you ever would. She isn't stubborn, you see; she actually  _tells_ me what her problems are, rather than sticking her chin into the damned air and striding away like a bloody peacock. And she looks like a woman, too, so  _that's_ always a plus!"

Brienne's eyes filled lightly with tears, and she gritted her teeth in anger at his latest blow. His sarcastic smile faded. Perhaps it was in her head, but he looked to have realized he'd gone slightly too far.

She swallowed hard, and stepped away from him, blinking the tears furiously from her eyes.  _Masculine jibes, even when she wore a dress? And they wonder why I prefer wearing armor._

She shook her head, a look of disgust upon her features. He closed his eyes and grimaced.

"Brienne, I--"

"Goodbye, Ser Jaime."

She blindly walked away from him, scanning the room for any sign of Sansa. Her vision was becoming more and more blurred, so she stopped to collect her thoughts, until a few seconds later, Sansa appeared at her side. 

"What did he say?" She asked disapprovingly, glaring across the room, presumably at Jaime.  _She saw everything, then._

"Nothing of any interest" Brienne replied eventually, thankful that her voice didn't shake and wobble the way her stomach felt to be doing.

Sansa smiled sweetly, taking her hand in her own. "Come with me. You know Loras Tyrell already, don't you?"

Brienne's eyes widened, and horror filled her chest. "He'll think I killed--"

Sansa laughed, cutting her concern off. "He knows it wasn't you who killed Renly, Brienne. Lady Margaery is here too, and she knows the truth. Come, I promise they'll be nice to you."

Brienne laughed, feeling jealous of how simple things were in Sansa's head. Shaking her head as Sansa pulled her through the crowds, she hoped with all her might that the Tyrells would be kinder than the Lannisters, and that the night would soon be over so she could retire to her chambers at long last. 


	19. Happiness

**Jaime**

Irritation coursed through him as Brienne walked away, and he felt a sudden urge to punch himself in the face. How could he have messed even  _that_ up? When he'd caught sight of her back in the Sept he'd gone to tell her he loved her, and that he wouldn't marry Ambre (he congratulated himself silently on managing to remember her name), but wanted to marry her instead. 

He'd  _thought_  it would be what she wanted to hear. He and Brienne had always clicked, and understood each other, but their exchange outside the Sept when he'd waited for her, and she'd arrived in her dress... they hadn't  _needed_ to clarify anything, after that. The way she looked at him, and blushed, and eagerly took his arm as he offered it to her, made it undeniably obvious. He'd thought she felt the same way for him as he did her.

 _She could do much better, though_ , he thought miserably.  _Not in looks, but she could definitely find a more honorable man. Maybe one who learned to keep his mouth shut and didn't insult her with words he didn't mean just to upset her._

What had he said to her, something about how she didn't look like a woman...? And, did he actually call her a peacock...?

He covered his face with his hands tiredly, his memory of the argument slipping away along with the adrenaline from the anger that fueled it.

The bottom line was, he'd meant to explain himself. And apologise. And instead, he'd insulted her and made her cry.  _Why am I so bloody useless?_

He removed his hands from his face and looked forwards, jumping slightly as he saw Sansa Stark sending him a deathly glare from the other side of the room. He averted his eyes awkwardly.  _For someone so bloody young and nice, she can't half glare. She definitely is her mother's daughter._

"There you are, my love" a woman's voice chirped up, making him jump out of his skin and revelry.

Ambre's arm twisted thickly around his own, and he fought back a look of irritation and the urge to swat her away as he realised who she was.  _Gods, I can't get rid of the stupid woman._

"Yes, I went to get..." Jaime trailed off, realising he'd not brought back the wine he'd set out for in the first place. In truth, he hadn't even given it a second thought once he'd escaped her suffocating clutches. He'd just been glad of some time alone. Before he found Brienne, and made  _that_ situation even worse than it already was. He still marveled at how he'd even managed to make  _that_ possible.

Ambre raised one eyebrow, and Jaime laughed nervously.

"Ah... it seems I must have misplaced it. Allow me to retrieve it, my Lady--"

She laughed, pulling him closer to her. "I don't think so, my sweetling. You've only just come back to me, I'm not letting you go again!"

He pretended to laugh along with her, though infuriation coursed through his body and it took every ounce of strength he had not to roll his eyes at her. In fact, he did, when she'd turned around.

"I've been speaking with your sister" Ambre said, draping her arms around his neck. His hung loosely at his sides; it didn't even occur to him that he should touch her at all, until she made a tutting noise and placed one of his hands roughly on her waist. She plastered her smile back upon her lips.

"You  _are_ honored" Jaime replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Clearly, she didn't know him well enough to pick up on it.

"I know!" she gushed, tangling her fingers within the short strands of hair at the back of his neck. He moved his head awkwardly, her touch resembling the irritating feeling he sometimes got when a fly kept landing on him in the training yard.

"She seems to really like me. Anyway, we decided that you and I would honor the guests with performing our  _first dance_ for them-"

"That's rather odd" Jaime cut in, his irritation getting the better of him at long last. "We're not  _already_ married. Surely that should wait until after the--"

"Your sister said you might say that" Ambre sighed, rolling her eyes. "So it won't be just the two of us. Everybody will be invited to join the dance. They'll have to choose a spur of the moment partner! Isn't that exciting?"

Jaime forced a smile, feeling uneasy for a reason he couldn't quite pinpoint. "It does, my Lady. When will we be dancing?"

Ambre bit her lip, before splitting into a grin.

"In a few moments, actually. Your sister said it should be earlier rather than later, as the night is still young, and people will end up rather drunk, she believes."

Jaime sighed. "She always did have good logic, my sister."

Ambre smiled happily, before taking his hand and leading him to the center of the room, where Cersei stood, speaking lowly with Tywin. 

Jaime glanced across the room to where he'd last seen Brienne and Sansa, but he saw no sign of them at first. When he did find them, they were stood with the Tyrells - Brienne's stance obviously awkward even from where he stood. Anger caused his face to flush.  _They'd better not blame her for Renly's death._

The tapping on several empty cups of wine with teaspoons caused the room to grow silent, and a beaming Cersei stood in the center of the room, each pair of eyes lingering upon her glorious figure as she spoke.

"Guests, in honor of my brother and his new wife, and in the eyes of the Gods, join them, in their first dance together! Men, choose a Lady to celebrate this momentous occasion with. Let the Celebrations truly begin!"

People clapped and cheered, and men began to stride from different corners of the room to extend their hands to the Lady of their choice. The women smiled shyly, taking the hands of the men delicately as they were led to the center of the room.

Ambre stepped in front of him. "Dance with me, my love." He looked at her, and she stared up at him, her eyes wide with excitement and expectation. But he didn't  _want_ to dance with her. His heart ached for Brienne.

He glanced across at where she'd been standing with the Tyrells, though what he saw instead almost made his heart stop.

A tall, plain looking man with a scar from his eye to his chin, was offering his hand to Brienne, who was staring at it apprehensively. As he stared at her, her eyes snapped to him, and they were full of sadness and hopelessness as she saw Ambre standing before him. Her eyes narrowed, and she took the man's hand, allowing him to kiss hers before he bowed lowly.

Jaime saw red, and even reached for the hilt of his sword, though his anger faded when Brienne looked back at him again. Her eyes were sad. His probably were, too.

But if she wanted to move on, so would he. 

Sliding his golden hand around Ambre's waist in a way that pulled her so close that their bodies were pressed closely together, and taking her hand with his other, he began to dance them from side to side, staring at Brienne with each step they took. Her mouth fell open, and she placed her hand upon the man's shoulder in response, pressing her body closely to his. 

Jaime gritted his teeth in fury as he watched the man's arm wind intimately around Brienne's waist. And what happened next was a series of events that were  _so_ fueled by adrenaline, that he wasn't even aware of his own actions.

Without realising what he was doing, and without sparing a thought for anyone or anything besides Brienne and the  _idiot_ who had his hands all over her, he pushed Ambre harshly from his body before he strode powerfully across the room, his fury making him appear dangerous and strong.

Brienne's eyes had widened with shock as she'd seen him approaching, but the man she danced with hadn't noticed, until Jaime clamped hard on his shoulder as he whirled him to face him before he landed an earth shattering blow directly upon his face. The man was knocked to the floor by Jaime's punch, though he was elevated upwards again as Jaime grabbed him by the neck of his tunic.

"Jaime, STOP." Brienne commanded powerfully, though he paid her no attention.

"You ever touch Brienne like that again" he warned dangerously, his face red and dangerous with fury, "And I will shove my sword so far up your arse that when I take it out, your brains will be on the end of it. Understand me?" 

The man nodded, though his expression was hard to read owing to the blood that spilled from his lips and nose. Jaime dropped him roughly to the ground, and lifted his head, suddenly aware that the entire room had fallen silent and had watched the whole scene. 

Cersei's arms were crossed, and her eyes were cold. Their father stood beside her, anger etched upon every feature on his face. He knew he'd have hell to pay for the embarrassment he'd brought upon their family. 

Tyrion had watched, though he seemed more amused than anything else. His eyes were full of questions; as though he were trying to figure out the reasons behind Jaime's outburst, but a knowing smile covered his lips as his eyes eventually came to rest upon Brienne. Tyrion's friend, Bronn (whom Jaime knew through their fighting practice and the Kingsguard since he'd been Knighted) nudged Tyrion with a look of amusement upon his face, nodding in Brienne's direction when Tyrion looked at him questioningly. Varys smiled smugly, almost as if he'd known it would happen, and Sansa grinned mischievously from ear to ear. Ambre simply looked as horrified as every other guest, and Brienne looked positively  _furious._ Her expression scared him more than anyone's.

He had no idea what to say. Obviously to some, his reasoning had been obvious.  _But not to her_ , he thought, shaking his head with a small smile at the irony.

 _Oh well_ , he thought, turning to Brienne. _I'm already in trouble. Might as well do it properly._

He walked across to her, ignoring his fear upon seeing the glare in her blue eyes as he approached, and took her hand. 

Her anger was replaced by shock, but she didn't refuse him. He smiled at her encouragingly, and led her to the middle of the room. 

Nobody said a word.

He let go of her hand, and turned to face her. They were standing in a circle, surrounded by guests and royalty alike, and every eye in the room followed their every move. He chose to ignore them all. He chose to ignore the consequences.

"Wench, I don't know what it is about you that keeps making me fall upon my own sword for you. Truly, I must have the head injury you've always told me I have."

The corners of Brienne's mouth twitched, and a small murmur of laughter swept the room.

"But I continue to do it. Whether I'm jumping into a bloody bear pit, with one hand and no weapon, to save you, or..." he gestured with his left hand at his sister and father behind them, "endangering my own life by disobeying my family... I find myself doing it, Brienne."

He stepped closer to her, and saw her eyes had filled with tears. "I've said some vile things to you. Truly, I have. But I need you to know..." His voice had turned serious. Urging. Before he smiled, and it became soft and joyous.

"I love you, Brienne. More than I love anyone else. More than.." he paused for a few seconds, before removing his cloak of the Kingsguard and throwing it to the ground, "being Lord Commander." People gasped around the room, but he ignored them.

"You challenge me, and you understand me. You're my closest ally, and my favourite person. I enjoy your company more than I enjoy anything else in the Seven Kingdoms. I don't want a 'Lady' of Casterly Rock as my wife. I want the stubborn woman I've fought with; the woman who says dresses restrict movement too much to be comfortable, and the woman who keeps her word no matter what the cost. I want the woman who listens before she judges, but keeps me on my bloody toes if I get too arrogant." 

More teetering laugher, and noises of amusement. Brienne's small smile had transformed into an ear-to-ear grin, and that was all that mattered to him. He smiled back at her.

"You are more beautiful a person, both inside and out, than I could ever deserve. It would do me no greater honor, than if you would agree to spend the rest of your life with me. Brienne..."

He inhaled deeply, savoring the sweetness of the moment, and the unshakable feeling of how  _right_ it was.

"...Will you be my wife?"

The tears ran freely down her face as she smiled radiantly, and she launched herself into his arms to the sound of deafening cheering from the crowds surrounding them.

"I love you" he said quietly, as she'd pulled away from their embrace. He held her tightly, and her face was just inches from his own. The crowds continued to cheer, hugging and kissing each other with happiness.

"I love you, too" she grinned back, and there was nothing left to do, but the thing he'd wanted to do for days.

Slowly he lowered his head towards her own, and their lips finally met, his lips crushing hers in a way so sweet but desperate that it reflected the two's feelings towards one another perfectly. His golden hand found the small of her waist as he kissed the smile from her lips, and his left found her face. There he stroked her cheek so tenderly, as if he thought she might break if he held her too tightly. Her lips were sweet and incredibly soft as they moved in gentle unison with his own, and her hands moved from his shoulders to the back of his neck.

Brienne was the one to pull away again; flustered as they were, it was probably a good thing - he wasn't sure he'd have had the willpower to separate himself from her, regardless of who was watching. She smiled up at him joyfully, and it took all he had to resist the urge to press his lips to her own once more. Once he'd tasted her, he wanted more. Seeing her but not holding her, kissing her, touching her, had begun to feel like torture.

He took the hand from her face, and intertwined his fingers with hers, as he turned to face his father and the rest of his family.

The room gradually fell silent again.

"Father, I've disappointed you in the past. And I'm sorry I've ignored your choice of wife for me." With that he gestured towards a livid looking Ambre, who rolled her eyes and folded her arms in response. "But... I _will_ resign from the Kingsguard. I  _will_ reside at Casterly Rock, and I  _will_ produce an heir to the damned place. But... I've already found the woman I'll be sharing it all with. Her name is Brienne of Tarth, and I think you'll be quite fond of her."

He turned back to Brienne, the encouraging smile back upon his lips, as he pulled her to stand by his side.

His father's mouth was a tight line, but his eyes shone triumphantly.  _So they should_ , Jaime thought irritatedly.  _He's gotten what he bloody wanted. I just never thought it would end up being what I wanted, too._

His father said nothing, and a silence so intense that it was almost painful filled the room.

"Very well" he said, in his steely, measured voice, after what felt like an eternity. His face split into as big a smile as Tywin's mouth ever allowed (which wasn't very big) and he extended his hand towards his new daughter in law, who blushed sweetly as he kissed it gently. The crowds erupted into cheers again, and Jaime and Brienne fell back into each others arms, their lips meeting in a union of happiness and joy that neither had ever expected to experience.

Sansa threw her head back and laughed, before smiling so widely that her cheeks began to ache, as she clapped and blushed and clapped even more at the scene before her. 

A smiling though for some reason slightly disappointed looking Tyrion could be seen emptying his purse of five Gold Dragons into the waiting hand of Bronn, who smiled his thanks triumphantly in an 'I told you so' manor, and Margaery Tyrell smiled warmly at Brienne, clapping almost as fervently as Sansa.

Jaime glanced back at the Stark girl again, who beamed at him so genuinely that he felt himself return it. Maybe not _quite_ as fervently as Sansa.

People began to approach the two of them, clapping Jaime on the back and shaking his hand, and hugging Brienne gently as they exclaimed their congratulations. They were given countless cups of wine, and the room was once again full of happy chatter, singing, and music.

Not all were happy, however; Cersei seethed silently, standing by herself, alienated from the celebrating guests. It seemed her last plan had failed, and her face twisted into a look of rage and fury as she watched Jaime and Brienne embrace.

Silent though she was, the look of fury turned to a calculating half-smile, as she nodded towards a seemingly average looking man standing shrouded in the shadows. The man nodded back, and picked up the cup of wine nearest to him, before producing a vial from an inside pocket, and emptying its contents into the wine.

Without another word, he crossed to the celebrating couple, though it was Brienne he congratulated first. 

"Lady Brienne" he began, bowing as lowly as he could without spilling the wine.

"May I offer you my most heartfelt congratulations with regards to your union with Ser Jaime. I wish the two of you happiness."

Brienne blushed, taking the cup of wine he offered her with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Ser. That's very kind of you to say."

Cersei's eyes shone triumphantly and expectantly as Brienne slowly raised the cup to her mouth. She edged forwards, her smile growing more and more wide by the second, as Brienne tilted the cup slowly towards her lips...


	20. STOP

**Brienne**

Euphoria coursed through her body as she thanked the latest guest to congratulate her, and she took the wine he offered with thanks. After that, it all happened very fast.

Just as she'd tilted the cup towards her lips, a voice had shouted "STOP! BRIENNE, DON'T DRINK IT!" over the din of the celebrations, and in shock, she dropped it to the floor just seconds before the first drop of wine could enter her mouth. Jaime rushed to her side, one hand on the hilt of his sword, though he must have been as clueless as to what was happening as she was.

She looked up, just as Margaery Tyrell surged through the crowds, her usual demeanor of grace and control thrown completely through the window. The room grew quiet at the clamor of the cup on the stone floor, and all eyes peered at her curiously. 

"Margaery, what is it-"

"I saw that man put poison in your wine." She interrupted, her voice urgent, causing gasps to echo dramatically around the silent Sept. 

Brienne looked to the man who gave it to her in astonishment, though within seconds he turned on his heel and made for the exit to the Sept.

"Seize him" Jaime roared, powerful and handsome and truly the Lannister lion, and Brienne shivered at the power in his voice.

The man had been seized scarcely before he could run, and he was shoved roughly back to the Royal party, where Jaime stared at him in disgust.

Brienne simply didn't know what to say.

"Who ordered you to poison the wine?" Tyrion broke the silence, his voice full of curiosity. He was good at riddling things out; this was almost like a puzzle for him, Brienne suspected. She couldn't think of anyone more suited to coming to a conclusion than he.

The man shook his head as he stared at his feet, and Jaime lost control of his anger completely as he moved swift as a viper towards the man and grabbed him by the neck of his tunic, just as he had done to Hyle. Before she knew it, Jaime's sword was at the man's throat.

"Tell me who tried to kill my wife, or I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

Brienne tried to ignore the inappropriate way in which his use of the word 'wife' made her feel nervous and ecstatic all at the same time, and instead opted to look around the room as it became filled with silence once again. 

Sansa had turned pale as a sheet, frozen in stillness as she surveyed the scene before her. Her eyes were filled with worry as they connected with Brienne's, so she smiled warmly, attempting to offer her any comfort she could. Sansa smiled back meekly, though it didn't touch the worry in her eyes.

Tywin watched the whole scene silently, his arms folded and a stony look ingrained upon his ageing face. And Cersei--

Brienne's heartbeat faltered, and a surreal sense of discomfort flooded her senses as she saw the raw panic lighting up Cersei's emerald green eyes. Her chest was heaving as she watched the scene before her unfurl, and every so often, her eyes darted towards the door.  _It was her. It was Cersei._

Jaime continued to threaten the silent man, and Brienne stared at Cersei, determined to make eye contact. Determined to tell her she knew exactly who had tried to poison her.

After what felt like an eternity, she got her wish, as Cersei's eyes met her own.

 _I know it was you_ , her thoughts screamed as loudly as they could.  _I know your plan backfired. I know you want me dead._

Cersei's panic seemed to escalate, her face paling to an even ghastlier shade of white than it already had.

She averted her eyes from Brienne's unwavering glare, and cleared her throat. "He clearly isn't going to say anything, dear brother. Might it be better if we send him to the dungeons whilst we discuss the horror of this event in private?"

Jaime turned to her slowly. His realization sunk in visibly, his features twisting into a look of fury and disgust as the obvious truth seeped into his brain.

He stared at the door, his handsome yet dangerous looking face illuminated by flickering candlelight in a way that made him look like an eighth God among the seven statues.  

Then, in another viper-quick movement, he turned back to the silent man, and asked him in as quiet a voice as he could manage through his anger "was the Queen the one who ordered you to do this? If you tell me the truth, I will spare your life and you shall be granted permission to join the Night's Watch with immediate effect."

The man, whose arms were surely beginning to ache from being bent behind him at such uncomfortable angles, nodded slowly as he grimaced with pain, and Jaime's heart became heavy as he turned back to his family.

"Dear sister... This man seems to think it was you who ordered him to poison my wife."

Panicked murmurs of horror and shock alike echoed through the chamber, and Cersei started, plastering the most fake of smiles across her panicking face. "Brother, the man speaks no sense-"

"Was it or was it not the Queen who ordered you to poison the wine?" Jaime spoke the question loudly that time, so everybody could hear.

The man nodded gravely.

Tywin shot his daughter a look of disgust, as Jaime nodded at three nearby guards for them to seize his sister.

"No" Cersei roared, over and over again as the men attempted to remove her from the Sept and lead her to the dungeons.

"This is an outrage" Tywin barked, his steely voice cutting through most others as he stood in front of his daughter.

"She is a Queen and a Lannister and she shall stay in her own chambers until the day of her trial--"

"She will reside in the dungeons until the morrow, grandfather, and her trial will be tomorrow afternoon."

Everyone turned in shock, as King Tommen made his way meekly through the hoards of people. Accompanied by Littlefinger and Varys, (whom Brienne supposed had gone to inform the King of the eventfulness of the feast before he'd attended it), he stood before his mother, whose face was pale and streaked with tears of horror and fury.

"Tommen, my little dove" She smiled softly, her voice breaking on the last word she said, "You came to the feast after all. Darling, have these men killed for harming your mother, and we'll--"

His eyes showed sadness, and for a second he looked as though he might yield to his begging mother's pleas, but he recovered himself well as he straightened his back, and smoothed the expression on his face. In a few seconds, he looked to have aged ten years. "I'm sorry, mother. The law is the law and it would not be kingly of me to make an exception for you." Littlefinger nodded silently as he stared at Cersei, clearly pleased in having imparted some wisdom upon the young King.

"Your trial will take place tomorrow afternoon, where you will plead guilty or innocent of the accused crime of attempting to murder Lady Brienne of Tarth, betrothed to Jaime Lannister. Until then, you will sleep in the dungeons." He nodded once at the guards, turning from her, a sadness filling his sweet, innocent eyes.

"NO, TOMMEN, STOP THEM" Cersei roared again, repeating her screams and protests as she were dragged away, but Tommen had turned his back to her. She continued to scream, cursing Brienne, Jaime and Tyrion as she went, and could be heard for several minutes upon her exit.

Tywin strode regally and powerfully from the room shortly after, his eyes alight with fury as he pointedly looked at Jaime as he walked by him.

Jaime nodded silently, before reaching for Brienne and pulling her close to him.

People began to disperse, quiet chatter filling the room, though the atmosphere was significantly more subdued, and most began to leave. Brienne watched as they filed out of the Sept, and buried her head in Jaime's shoulder as exhaustion began to overpower her. He stroked her head soothingly.

"Whatever happens, my Lady, we'll take the girls to the Wall. We'll get away from here. I won't let anyone drive us apart, and nobody will ever, ever hurt you."

He kissed the top of her head and she smiled, not caring about the poisoned cup, or the angry Tywin, or the impending trial which would inevitably swing largely in Cersei's favor. Jaime's arms were around her, and whatever else she had to endure was no obstacle as long as that fact still stood. He loved her and she loved him and even if they had to run away, she knew she'd never have to be without him. 

 _We'll work out the rest_ , she thought tiredly, a warm and fuzzy feeling spreading through her as she inhaled his scent, and felt his heart beating against her own.

_I love him, and he loves me, and we're safe and alive and together. We'll be alright._


	21. How Did You Know?

**Jaime**

The Sept was almost empty; the few that remained inside it were himself, Brienne, Tyrion, Bronn, Margaery, Loras and Sansa. 

He held Brienne to him closely; she numbed the shame he felt at allowing her to be inches from death, without even realizing it. He'd have to apologise for that, later.

"How did you know?" Loras asked Margaery, as everyone looked at her curiously.

"I saw her, from across the room" she replied distantly, her eyes hovering over the spot in which Cersei had been standing. "She looked furious, at first. Ready to kill someone. And then... it was almost as if she'd realized something, and she smiled, and I saw her nod to someone. I followed her eyes, and could barely make him out at first; he stood so deeply in the shadows. But I strained my eyes, and I saw him add the poison."

"Do you think Pycelle gave it to him?" Jaime asked Tyrion, speaking to his younger brother as though nobody else was in the room.

Tyrion shook his head, deep in thought. "I doubt it. Did anyone even recognise him? He's a peasant, I do believe. A sellsword." 

"Nothing wrong with that" Bronn interrupted, shifting his position as he lent casually against one of the grand columns that held the Great Sept upright.

Tyrion smiled briefly at his friend, before he continued "Be that as it may, I rather think that Grand Maester Pycelle would have told the poor boy to scour the marketplace rather than his store cupboards if he wished for any poison. It's cheap to Lannisters, but not to everyone."

Jaime nodded silently, his arms still around Brienne, who turned so that she faced the rest of the group, caressing Jaime's hands as they still wound around her body.

"Cersei must have given it to him, then" she said seriously, seeing no other alternative. Tyrion smiled at her warmly.

"Indeed, my Lady, that does seem the most plausible explanation. But, as my dear brother would tell you, our sister is not stupid. Not that stupid, at least, and I do believe she'll have been aware of the risk of being discovered."

"Who, then? Littlefinger?" Jaime asked, scouring his mind for possible accomplices to Cersei's attempted crime.

"She asked him to retrieve Arya, when they wanted to use her to bargain with my brother, Robb." Sansa piped up, a sadness clouding her eyes as she said her eldest brother's name.

Margaery smiled at her softly, holding her hand by way of comfort.

"He's as good a suspect as anyone, then."

"As good a suspect as Varys, you mean" Bronn said, his voice thick with amusement.

"The Spider has few ties with Cersei" Tyrion replied, shaking his head dismissively. "He tends to keep out of her reach. Besides, he  _is_ the Master of Whisperers. He has his own spies; I can scarcely imagine him agreeing to be someone else's."

"Perhaps he would if his life were at stake" Jaime said tiredly, resting his forehead dejectedly on the back of Brienne's shoulder. She reached a hand around to stroke the side of his head, keeping her other holding the hand he wound around her middle.

"She can be forceful, true. I think we all know that" Tyrion replied matter of factly.

Jaime spun Brienne around in his arms, kissing her forehead and taking her hand in his. He was becoming more and more exhausted by the minute.

"Whoever gave her the poison to give to whoever the idiot who poured it into the wine was, I don't think we're getting anywhere here."

Margaery nodded in agreement, standing up slightly straighter in preparation to leave.

"I expect we'll discover more in the trial, tomorrow. Pointless though it will be" Tyrion smirked, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

"I know. Can't see her losing her head somehow, can you?" Bronn replied, shaking his head as he laughed.

"Father will make sure it goes in her favor. Tommen is weak, and easily manipulated at such a young age. He won't see his mother killed. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - she's not nearly as intelligent as she thinks she is, and she's as cold as the air beyond the wall, but our sister loves her children." Tyrion said, speaking directly to Jaime.

He swallowed hard, ignoring the guilt that swam through his body as he heard the implied " _your_ " rather than "her" in Tyrion's sentence.

"Well, let us depart."

Brienne let go of his hand and reached towards Sansa, moving a stray strand of hair from the girl's face and tucking it behind her ear. Jaime's heart warmed. It was a strangely motherly gesture from Brienne.

Sansa seemed to appreciate it too, as she smiled sweetly up at Brienne. 

"We'll walk you to your chambers, Sansa, and have them guarded through every hour of the night. You have nothing to worry about."

Sansa took her hand and squeezed it, and the two shared a look of mutual appreciation and fondness which caused something within Jaime to stir. He had no idea of how close the two had become.

"Let's go" Brienne said, smiling sweetly at Jaime as she towed Sansa towards the door. She nodded at the rest as she passed them, before she stopped at the last minute to turn around.

"...Thank you for attending my Nameday feast."

Each person burst into laughter, and it echoed through the grounds as they each left for their chambers. 

They hugged, kissed, said goodnight, and before much longer, Jaime, Brienne and Sansa were the only remaining three.

He reached for Brienne's hand as they walked, and she smiled at him lovingly.  _Gods, I love her._

"I knew you loved her" Sansa spoke suddenly as if to be reading his mind, causing both Jaime and Brienne to look to her in shock. 

"You knew more than me, then!" Brienne laughed, her smile beautiful and radiant even in the dark of the night.

Jaime grinned into the darkness. "You're more intuitive than you seem, Sansa Stark! Tell me, did you ever think about pursuing fortune telling?"

The girl leaned around Brienne to laugh at Jaime's teasing, shaking her head at him as she smiled.

"You don't have to be a fortune teller to see something so obvious. Including your irritation towards Ambre..." She laughed again, a delicate sound like silver bells floating up into the King's Landing air.

Brienne laughed too.

Jaime felt a little embarrassed. "Was it that obvious?" he asked, though his voice could hardly be heard over the women's laughter.

"Every time she touched you, you pulled a face, like you'd just remembered she existed and the realization angered you" Sansa replied, though it took her a few attempts through her near-breathless laughter.

Jaime blushed, remembering his feelings of irritation and the impulse to swat her away like she were nothing more than an annoying fly. The feelings she gave him were remarkably similar to that which flies did. He frowned, as the annoyance of it swept freshly through his memory, though his expression only made the two laugh even harder.

Before long, they'd reached Sansa's chambers, and they all stopped short outside of her door. Jaime summoned two Knights standing nearby, and she beamed happily at both of them as they stood before her.

Wordlessly, she hugged Brienne. Jaime couldn't see the expression on his soon-to-be-wife's face, but she wrapped her arms around the young girl, whose eyes he could  _just_ see over Brienne's shoulder. They were closed, but crinkled at the edges, so he could tell she still had a smile upon her face. It was a beautiful sight. _  
_

Then, to his shock, she released Brienne and hugged him, too.

His arms folded around her awkwardly. He felt the urge to be gentle with the girl; she was so thin, and dainty - if he hugged her the same way he hugged Brienne, the poor girl would probably snap. But her show of affection sent feelings of warmth through his body, and when she pulled away, his smile towards her was warm and genuine.

"Thank you, both of you." She said, smiling at each of them. "Brienne... my mother would be more proud of you than you could ever know. I just know that you're making her happy, and I'm so glad  that you have someone to take care of you now." 

Brienne smiled her thanks, her eyes becoming slightly misty.

"And Ser Jaime... Brienne told me you'd changed. Tonight you proved it, and I'm very happy that you've become almost as good as Brienne is. Take care of her, as she takes care of me."

He nodded solemnly, his heart beating quickly as he recognized the opportunity to make an oath to the girl - and for once, to keep it.

"I give you my word, Lady Sansa. I'll protect Lady Brienne for as long as I live."

Sansa smiled sweetly, hugging Brienne one last time. 

He was sure he wasn't meant to, so he averted his eyes tactfully, but Jaime was sure he heard her whisper "thank you" to Brienne, before she daintly turned on her heel and disappeared into her chambers. 

Brienne slipped her hand into his own, and they began their walk to Brienne's chambers, leaving the guards outside of her door in their stead.

They were just a few minutes from Brienne's room, when Jaime stopped short. 

"Why in Seven Hells am I taking you back to  _your_ chambers?" he asked her, a look of annoyance at his own stupidity across his face.

Brienne looked horrified for a moment, but recomposed her face into a polite smile.

"Jaime, I think it best we stay separately until we're married" She blushed, looking at her feet as she spoke.

_Oh. She thinks I meant..._

He smiled, amused at what she'd thought he'd meant and even more so at her reaction.

He tucked one hand beneath her chin, raising her face until she looked at him.

"I do not intend to take your maidenhead tonight, my Lady" he said, grinning at her as she blushed in the outdoor candlelight.

"Regardless, I think--"

"You're staying with me tonight, woman. If Cersei is released, where do you think she'll send someone for you?"

He saw Brienne acknowledge his logic, and she nodded, folding herself within his arms again.

"Thank you for protecting me" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He pulled back, tilting her head up towards his once again, before he crushed his lips against her own, showing her just how welcome she was.

They smiled at each other idiotically, before walking hand in hand to Jaime's chamber in the White Tower, where he intended to hold her through the night until they could create a plan to leave King's Landing for good.

Brienne stopped, forcing him to stop too, as he'd rather stand still than drop her hand from his own.

"Your chambers are in the White Tower." She stated, a look of confusion upon her face.

"Indeed they are, my Lady."

"...It's full of other Knights" she blushed. He smirked.

"Indeed it is, my Lady."

"I'm not supposed to be there."

He laughed, tossing his head backwards. How she was  _still_ so wrapped up in morals even at this hour, exhausted as they both were, was greatly amusing to him. Or maybe his lack of sleep was beginning to send him delirious. 

"Nor am I. I'm no longer Lord Commander. But I  _am_ Royalty... so, technically, I  _should_ be able to reside wherever I please. And, since there's no oath preventing me from taking a wife, it's perfectly acceptable that my soon-to-be shall occupy my chambers with me, since we haven't yet been allocated new chambers of our own."

Brienne gaped at him wordlessly, and he laughed again.

"Besides, where better to protect you than in a room surrounded by other Knights of the Kingsguard?"

She smiled tiredly, obviously deciding to give in, and they resumed their stroll to their chambers for the night, thoughts of sleeping entwined with his best friend more appealing to him than anything else in the world. 


	22. Tease

**Brienne**

Brienne's eyes fluttered open as daylight begun to seep into her room, though she closed them again instantly, not wanting to move from the comfortable position she found herself in.

Her bed seemed more comfortable than usual; her sheets more soft, and warm as they hugged her body. She closed her eyes blissfully.  _I could stay here forever._

Then she heard a cough, and a slight vibration beneath her. Her eyes snapped open and she jerked upright in shock, staring at her bed wide-eyed. That was when she'd realized it wasn't  _her_ bed she'd been sleeping in at all; beneath her lay Jaime, blissfully asleep despite his sleepy cough, his arms strewn across his naked torso from where she'd jumped out of them. She grew hot, a smile edging across her face as memory of the feast seeped back into her brain.

_It was almost as if the whole thing had been a wonderful, brilliant dream._

She clasped her hand to her mouth to stifle an excited giggle, happiness bubbling up inside her, in a way that made her want to leap from the bed and dance around the room like the love-struck maids she'd heard songs about. He frowned in his sleep, and even muttered something about a 'stubborn wench', and again she had to cover her lips with both her hands to stop the burst of laughter from leaving them. He writhed slightly, flopping his left hand over his face, before rolling unconsciously onto his stomach and throwing a heavy arm around Brienne's kneeling body. 

She looked down at the arm he'd thrown over her legs, and couldn't help but stare at his beautiful sleeping form fondly. She lightly traced a finger up and down the length of his arm, before gently moving strands of his tousled golden hair from his eyes. 

She was sure, then, that she'd never been as thankful for anything in her life as she was for Jaime Lannister. Tickling his arm slowly again, she thanked the Gods for allowing her such happiness.

"Stop tickling my arm, wench" he moaned tiredly, frowning with closed eyes. Jumping as she realized he'd awoken, she finally allowed her laughter to slip from her lips, as she placed her hand back into her lap. 

"I am truly sorry" she laughed, as he rolled onto his back. The sunlight filtering in through his window illuminated his golden hair, and he grinned widely and handsomely as he took in her blushing laughter.

But then her heartbeat began to falter, and her blush turned an even deeper shade of scarlet. His torso was illuminated by the sun in a way that made it look almost as golden as his hair, and it took all of her strength to resist the sudden urge she had to trace each line of his six-pack with her finger. He looked magnificent. He looked like a statue. He looked like a God.

She bit her lip, and his smile grew wider.

"What is it, wench? Are you--"

What was sure to be an undoubtedly teasing comment from her soon-to-be-husband was cut off into silence, as moving quickly, she placed a hand on his body and pressed her lips suddenly and urgently to his. His arms wound around her body as he pulled her on top of him, and her heartbeat soared intensely as for the first time, his tongue found its way into her mouth, and she tasted him like never before. 

Her boldness and confidence melted away from her like snow in the sunshine, as the changes in her body warned her of their closely approaching entrance into uncharted territory. Her hands went from sure to fumbling, and her stomach began to writhe in the same way that their bodies did within the sheets.

She'd never felt so strange, or sensitive; every touch he graced her body with made her feel electrified, and it was almost as though every one of her senses had all of a sudden been heightened. The feel of the light sheen of sweat across the smooth plains of his perfect chest; the smell of his hair, his skin; the taste of his mouth...

She recognized the way she yearned for him; though she'd never expected to experience the raw needherself, she'd heard it described by others - but it was more  _intense_ than she'd ever thought it would be, and though her body cried out for him to take her, the prospect of it sent shivers down her spine and positively terrified her. Or perhaps it was Jaime's teeth biting gently into her lower lip that made her shiver.

Regardless of her insecure fears, her lips never left his, and it might've taken dragons attacking the city to make them. For once, it was Jaime who pulled away.

He laughed as she frowned at him, anger coursing through her body as it ached and yearned for his touch.  _Why is he stopping?_   Her eyebrows knitted together, and she pulled away from him to sit on the bed, folding her arms angrily.

He was still shaking with laughter as he sat up beside her. 

"Stop sulking, my sweetling. Whatever is the matter?" 

Brienne's look of anger faltered and she felt her face flush again, as she realized she couldn't  _possibly_ tell him why she was upset. _He'd never stop teasing me_ , she thought, embarrassed.

He smirked as he moved closer to her sitting figure, kissing her lightly on the forehead, then the nose, and then once on her lips, seemingly unaware of how each touch he gave left a burning sensation upon her skin, and a dizzying feeling in her head.

"I'm not taking your maidenhead until you are my wife, Brienne" he said lowly into her ear, his voice rough and seductive, before he began kissing her neck. She shivered as the becoming-familiar feeling of  _need_ built up inside her body, and reached her arms around his neck.

"Not until you're Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock."

His voice was a purr, and reminded her of silk. It made her body burn with desire; Low, and intimate, controlled and  _maddeningly_ desirable... _Lady Lannister_ , she thought with a shiver of delight. The thought of being a Lannister would normally have sickened her, but when she heard Lannister she didn't think of Cersei or Tywin any longer; all she thought about was Jaime, the man who loved her and protected her, and made her heart rate soar as his lips trailed slowly down her neck. She closed her eyes, a low moan escaping her lips. 

She knew in the back of her mind that the making of such a noise would hugely embarrass her, normally; but she didn't care. The prospect of lying with Jaime was as desirable, exciting and tangible as it was terrifying, nerve-wracking and new. But  _Gods,_ she wanted him...

He pulled away once again, his devastatingly beautiful, teasing, arrogant smile as bright as the sun illuminating it.

She felt herself sulking, and he kissed her cheek in apology, his smile fading slowly as he drew away from her.

"We should prepare for the trial" he said eventually, his voice heavy. 

 _Gods, the trial!_ Brienne's eyes grew wide as she remembered its occurrence for the first time since waking. She'd forgotten about it completely; for a few brief moments, it had felt as though only she and Jaime inhabited the world. 

She climbed from the bed, and stretched out her muscles, squinting in the sunlight as she stood before the window. Then she picked up the dress she'd worn to the feast, and folded it lightly on top of Jaime's bed; when they'd arrived in his chambers, he'd offered her an undershirt to sleep in since she had no bed clothes with her. She'd accepted graciously, though she'd still demanded he turned around as she undressed. He'd found the request greatly amusing, but agreed to it regardless.

But then she sighed. The streets were full of roaming people, preparing for the trial no doubt, some maybe even on their way to the Throne Room. How long had they slept? She'd never have time to change into her own clothes before the trial started. 

Jaime was pulling on his own clothes, struggling with one hand to button up his cream leather tunic as he, too, realized they must have slept for longer than was planned. 

"I'm going to be late. I have to go back to my chambers and get--"

"I'll send for a handmaiden" he said, frowning with pain as he attached his golden hand to the stump at the bottom of his right arm. She moved to help, but he waved her off dismissively. "Someone will bring you something to wear."

She frowned, wondering what one of the handmaidens would possibly bring her at such short notice. Her nose wrinkled delicately.

"But they'll bring me a dress" she said, her voice thick with distaste towards the idea. He looked up and laughed with disbelief, as he slipped on his boots and cloak.

"I thought you'd grown rather fond of dresses?"

Her eyes widened as she rocked back and forth on her heels, toying nervously with the bottom of his shirt that she'd slept in.

"I liked  _that_ dress" she said, not meeting his eyes.

"How different could that be from any other?"

She looked at her feet shyly. "Well, _you_ designed it for me." Her voice was quiet, and he wore the softest of smiles when she dared a peek back up at him.

"I'll design as many for you as you'd like if that would make you happy, my Lady."

She smiled shyly, a blush gradually reddening her cheeks.

"But for now you'll have to wear  _something._ "

She nodded, rolling her eyes, as Jaime popped his head around the door in search of someone.

Busy and bustling with life as the Red Keep and all its towers and chambers were, it wasn't too long before someone busied past, and he caught their attention.

She didn't hear what he asked for, as she hurriedly ran her fingers through the knots in her hair. It looked strange, hanging loosely around her face. She was so used to seeing it plastered backwards that she hardly recognized herself.

Before long, whoever it was that he'd roped into finding her some clothes returned with a dress (at this point she rolled her eyes and thought " _I knew it_ ") and, after making Jaime turn his back, she changed into it.

He'd insisted on buttoning up the back for her, though, difficult as he found it with one hand. Even in their rushing, he found the time to plant kisses down the back of her neck, making her shiver delicately as she stood in front of the window. Hearing his teasing laughter she turned abruptly to smack him on the arm, before he held the chamber door open for her, and the two descended towards the throne room, arm in arm.


	23. Long Day

**Jaime**

With Brienne's arm intertwined with his own, the two set out towards the throne room, though they separated and broke into a run when they realized how empty the Keep had become. 

They arrived in time, however. Seats towards the back of the room were still free, though he pulled Brienne towards him when she began to sit in one, and instead proceeded to stride to the front of the room, where two men eagerly gave up their seats for the Queen's brother and his betrothed. Brienne smiled her thanks at them apologetically, shooting daggers at Jaime and muttering something about him being 'arrogant and rude' under her breath.

He rolled his eyes at her as they sat, and neither said another word as the room grew quiet.

In the centre of the room, before the panel of judges, stood Cersei Lannister. Her hands were in shackles, red marks visible on her wrists from the irritation they caused her smooth, pale skin. She wore the same dress she'd worn to the feast, owing to her night in the dungeons - a dress so navy blue that it almost looked black, with golden embroidery along the sleeves, and a corset around her middle made of gold. Her hair was frizzy and unkempt; it still dangled down her back, but was thick with knots and snarls. Her braids were beginning to loosen, and her eyes were red and swollen.  _  
_

 _It would have killed me once, to see her like this_ , Jaime thought to himself as he saw her.  _But now I see who she really is. I've seen what she tried to do. Now, I feel nothing._

The panel of judges before her was made up of King Tommen, in the Iron Throne; Tyrion, in a chair to his left, and Littlefinger in a chair to his right. Tywin stood between Tommen and Littlefinger, his hands clasped together in front of him. Olenna Tyrell, Pycelle and Varys were occupants of the front row, as were Ser Loras and Sansa. Ser Bronn stood at the sidelines, leaning against the wall with an easy smile and casually folded arms, and the Knights of the Kingsguard stood dutifully around the room.

Jaime wasn't surprised Ser Bronn and Tyrion got along so well. They were witty, calm and collected, and didn't break under pressure. They each seemed to see the world as one big joke, sometimes. Though, he had to hand it to his younger brother - he was taking the world seriously enough as he stood atop the panel.

Cersei surveyed the crowds, expressionless. She held her head high, and though it was clear she'd cried herself through the night, there were no tears in her eyes as she faced up to her destiny. Jaime almost sniggered;  _I probably wouldn't be too worried if father was on the panel either_ , he thought with a mental eye roll.

After a few moments of intense silence, Tommen rose fluidly from the throne. Perhaps it was an intuitive thing, since the boy was his son, but Jaime could sense a vibe of false confidence about the boy as he surveyed the room. He wasn't like Joffrey; the poor boy was probably nervous at having such a position of power thrown towards him. Especially when the accused was his mother. 

Tommen swallowed hard, and met the eyes of as many people in the room as he could, unwavering in his pretense of power. As he stood, everybody else did, and silence fell over the chamber. 

"I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, first of my name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do hereby recuse myself from this trial. Tywin of the House Lannister, Hand of The King, and Protector of the Realm, will sit as judge in my stead. With him, Lord Tyrion, of the House Lannister, Master of Coin, and Lord Petyr, of the House Baelish. If found guilty..."

Tommen grew quiet, as his mother's eyes closed in panic, and Jaime wondered for a split second if one of them would burst into tears.

"...May the Gods punish the accused." Cersei smiled sadly at her son, who averted his eyes from her, before stepping from the throne, and exiting the chambers in which it sat. 

People began to look at one another questioningly, obviously shocked at Tommen's departure. Jaime felt like rolling his eyes at the lot of them.  _He's a child, and it's his bloody mother. Why are they surprised?_

Cersei swallowed hard and straightened her back, looking her father directly in the eyes. He sat upon the throne as soon as Tommen had vacated the room, and looked more the part of the King in it than anyone Jaime had ever seen. His tunic looked as black and shiny as the swords that made up the throne itself;  _He bloody blends in with the thing._

Everyone reclaimed their seats, and a silence once again settled over the room. 

"Cersei of the House Lannister" came Tywin's deep voice, reverberating throughout the massive room.

"You stand accused by Lady Margaery, of House Tyrell, betrothed to King Tommen and soon to be Queen, of attempted murder of Lady Brienne of Tarth, first of her name." 

Cersei gritted her teeth, and lifted her chin even higher into the air.

"Did you command someone to steal poison from Grand Maester Pycelle's supplies before using it to poison the wine of Lady Brienne at her Nameday feast?"

Jaime reached across her lap and took Brienne's hand in his own. He knew she'd be coping; she was stronger than anyone he knew... it was more for his sake that he intertwined his fingers with hers. All the talk of her being  _murdered_... he had to touch her, in a silly way, to remind himself that she was still there. That she was safe.

Cersei looked at her feet, a cold and sarcastic smile spreading across her lips. 

"No, father, I did not." 

"Did you steal the poison yourself?"

Cersei laughed under her breath, casually looking at the people surrounding her by way of making her argument seem less forced. 

"No."

Tywin was silent, clearly deciding which path to go down next. Cersei kept her answers short and simple, so that no small detail she forgot could come back to haunt her; she was clever, in what she was doing. He supposed their father had visited the dungeons and the two of them had scripted the whole trial through the night. 

"Then who would you say  _did_ poison our dear brother's betrothed, the lovely Lady Brienne?" Tyrion asked, almost sarcastically, as he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side in wonder.

Jaime felt a smirk cross his face;  _I think everyone knows she'll be found innocent_ , he thought, watching his sister stare at Tyrion with a look of pure hatred, _but Tyrion won't make it easy for them._

"I have no way of knowing such a thing. I have no interest in the comings and goings of the women who please my brothers; there are so many whores around here, it becomes difficult to keep track." 

Surprised murmurs filled the room, and the corners of Littlefinger's mouth twitched at somewhat of smile. Tyrion grinned from ear to ear at Bronn, who nodded his head in appreciation at his friend's reputation. Obviously they both found it hilarious, though Jaime certainly didn't - and neither did Tywin. Brienne raised her eyebrows, a small smile playing across her lips, and she stroked Jaime's hand soothingly when she saw the looks of torment and anger playing across his face. Tywin said nothing.

"So bitter, dear sister. Anyone would think you were jealous of Lady Brienne."

More surprised murmurs. Brienne and Jaime froze, and looked at each other in panic.  _  
_

 _He wouldn't ask her about her relationship with me out here, surely?_ Jaime thought, conveying his thoughts through his eyes to Brienne.

She smiled softly, recomposing her look of panic into a serene smile of reassurance as she rubbed soothing circles into his hand. She shook her head.

He took that to mean that he wouldn't. He hoped to the Gods that she was right.

Cersei openly laughed at Tyrion's last statement, looking at the guests around her as if her brother had gone mad in suggesting such a thing.

"What, I ask under the eyes of the Gods, would I be jealous of?"

Tyrion's eyes went straight to Jaime, and Jaime pleaded with his younger brother silently.  _Please_ , he thought. _Tyrion, don't._

Tyrion looked away from Jaime, an expression on his face of missed opportunity.

"Well, she's a much more honorable woman than you are, for a start."

Jaime closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, and the crowd murmured in agreement with Tyrion.

"That's enough" Tywin said, his voice commanding and harsh over the speech of the crowds.

"Grand Maester, recount the moment, including date and time, when you realized one of your poisons had been taken."

Pycelle rose from his seat with great difficulty, and stumbled towards the steps to the throne painfully slowly. 

"It was Tears of Lys that was taken from my supplies, my Lord" Pycelle said weakly, bowing as lowly as he could manage without falling to the floor.

Cersei rolled her eyes in annoyance. She never had liked the man.

"And when did you notice its disappearance?"

"Just last night" the old man replied, as though it was a crime against him personally rather than a small cog in a very dangerous machine.

Tywin looked to the ceiling with a small shake of his head as Pycelle launched into what was sure to be another of his not-so-thrilling accounts of a minor event which had happened to him, which he always made much longer than need be. 

"I'd been treating a patient - injury from jousting, nothing too serious - but the man.. who was it? I-I scarcely remember his name, I'll--" Pycelle turned to the crowds of people, almost as if hoping to point out whoever he spoke of, but Littlefinger reclaimed his attention.

"It does not matter, who the man was" he said, his smile as cunning and knowing as ever. 

"Had anyone visited you who may have stolen the poison?"

Pycelle stroked his beard in thought, shaking his head in the process.

"No, my Lord. I don't believe so. Whoever took it must have taken it without me seeing."

 _Not hard_ , Jaime thought tiredly.

Cersei smiled triumphantly as Pycelle was dismissed back to his seat, and another few minutes of silence passed save for the grunting and groaning of the aged man as he ambled back to his seat and attempted to sit in it. 

Jaime exhaled heavily.  _Looks like this will be a long day._

 


	24. Round Two

**Brienne**

"Perhaps, Lady Margaery could recount her version of what happened" Baelish spoke, in that strange, breathy voice of his.

Brienne wasn't sure what it was, but something about him made her uneasy. His smile looked to hold a million secrets; smugness radiated from him with every knowing smile, and though she'd never spoken to him directly, her gut told her that he couldn't be trusted.

Margaery rose fluidly from her chair, beauty and grace as she strode elegantly before the throne. "My Lords" she said, curtsying formally.

Brienne felt a surge of admiration towards Margaery. She'd always known her beauty, and her compassion, but never with Renly had Margaery been forced to show her _strength_ ; here in King's Landing, she'd become one of the best players in the whole game - smiling at the right people, going along with whatever they wanted even if it made her blood boil. She emulated class in a way that Brienne applauded. 

Tywin nodded at her gravely. 

"What is the basis behind your accusation of Cersei Lannister attempting to posion Brienne of Tarth?" 

Margaery didn't look at Cersei, who glared at the back of her head in a way that would have killed her if looks could do such a thing.

"It was at the feast, my Lord. Lord Jaime and Lady Brienne had just announced their betrothal, and everybody was celebrating. I looked across the room, and saw the Queen Regent. At first, she looked furious-" Cersei rolled her eyes with a smile "-but her expression... changed."

Tywin cleared his throat. "In what way did it change?"

Margaery grew distant, as if describing a simple memory to one person, not a panel of judges in a trial.

"She looked...  _mad_ , almost" she started, a look of confusion crossing her petite features. 

"Her eyes were panicked, almost crazed, as she stared off into the shadows. Then I saw her nod her head..."

Tywin shifted in his seat uncomfortably, looking at Cersei in a way that said "This is your own fault" as Margaery continued.

"I leaned around Loras to follow her gaze, and... at first, I couldn't quite see him, my Lord. He was so shrouded within the shadows that I didn't understand who she was communicating with. But my eyes adjusted, and I saw his figure, and I saw him retrieve a small vial from a pocket on the inside of his tunic. He picked up a cup of wine to his left, and emptied its contents into the cup..."

Pycelle nodded fervently, raising his hand slightly in way of requesting to talk. "Yes" the old man almost shouted, if his voice had been strong enough to allow it. "I keep Tears of Lys in small vials." He nodded his head powerfully, eyes wide, as though it were case-solving news.

Cersei wasn't the only one to roll her eyes that time.

"Thank you, Grand Maester. We shall keep that in mind." Tyrion said sarcastically, though Pycelle didn't pick up on it and nodded appreciatively.

"And you just watched the whole time?" Tywin asked Margaery harshly, almost as if he blamed her.

"Well, there wasn't much time to watch, my Lord." She replied strongly, her voice unwavering despite Tywin's rudeness. 

"He came out of the shadows, and had reached Lady Brienne within seconds. I ran to her as quickly as I could, and shouted to her that she shouldn't drink it. She heard me, and she didn't."

Brienne felt Jaime squeeze her hand, and though when she looked at him he stared straight ahead, his face was a picture of torment. She squeezed his hand back, smiling encouragingly when he looked at her. She longed to squeeze him and kiss him and get that traumatized look from his face, but there wasn't much she could do in the trial, so she settled for covering his hand with the one he wasn't already holding.

Tywin sighed heavily, probably starting to feel the same sense of irritation upon the longevity of the trial as everyone else was.

"And where is the man now?" 

Margaery began to explain to Tywin that the man had been locked away just as Cersei had, but her voice began to fade into a blur as Brienne's eyes drifted around the room. If they could  _just_ work out who'd gotten the poison, they could pressure him/her until they cracked and, Tywin or no Tywin, Cersei would have no option but to be found guilty.

Brienne looked for a possibility. Sansa? Of course not; the girl wouldn't harm a fly, much less  _her._ The two had become great friends, and even if that  _had_ all been a ruse on Sansa's part, Brienne was her only hope for escape. She shook her head at even considering Sansa. Next to Sansa sat Loras... Loras? He  _had_ been close to Renly; perhaps he  _did_ blame her for his death after all... but he'd been so kind to her, when they'd spoken. Nobody was that good an actor. At least not those who hadn't grown up in King's Landing. Surely Loras hadn't helped Cersei try to kill her? Her eyes moved on to her next possible suspect, Olenna Tyrell. Another possibility, she supposed, but she couldn't find any stand-out reason as to why.

Next to her was Varys, the Sp- her thoughts stopped short, as her eyes drifted to Varys' face. His eyes were already staring into her own, and she gasped slightly in shock. Jaime looked to her questioningly, but she shook her head, only looking back to Varys once Jaime had turned his attention back to the trial. 

He looked at her as though he were trying to tell her something; like she and Jaime did, only with Varys, it wasn't quite working. After staring at her for ten or so seconds, his gaze drifted very slowly - and very pointedly - to the left hand corner at the very back of the room, where the last row of seats sat shrouded in shadow. Understanding at last, Brienne followed his gaze towards the seats, where she saw a very pale and very anxious looking Lancel Lannister sweating his way profusely through the trial, dabbing at his forehead regularly with the back of his hand.

Brienne looked back to Vary's in shock, whose eyebrows were raised, a small smile at his lips. He turned his head slowly back towards the trial, and she realized he'd give her no other clues. Unsure of what to do, she tapped the hand of Jaime's that she held twice, to get his attention. He looked back at her questioningly, and so she told him best she could what she knew, through her eyes.

_I think I know who her accomplice was. I'll look at him now, follow my gaze. Maybe you can tell Tyrion somehow. Ready..._

And with that, in the same way that Varys had done, she turned her head in Lancel's direction, sure Jaime had understood her message when she saw his head following her movements from the corner of her eye.

Jaime looked back at her with wide eyes. Brienne nodded wordlessly, as she tuned back into the trial.


	25. She Is Human

**Jaime**

He'd followed Brienne's deliberate gaze towards his cousin Lancel, confused of her reasoning to begin with, but understood as soon as he saw the young Knight sweating profusely, glancing at the door every few seconds.

At that point it became obvious who'd stolen the poison, but he scarcely had the evidence to prove it.  _How did Bri know?_

He looked towards her questioningly, but her eyes didn't move from the scene before her. Margaery Tyrell was still being interrogated by Tywin for all her worth, though she seemed to be holding her own rather well. Jaime wasn't surprised; her short-lived marriage to Joffrey had proven her an excellent actress - all those doe-eyed glances, and tender touches - regardless of his sadistic tendencies, and his rather disturbing nature in general. 

Jaime's mind was abuzz, as he thought of as many different ways of bringing Lancel to light as possible.  _I should have told everyone that he's fucking Cersei_ , he thought bitterly.  _Maybe then he'd be under investigation without me having to bloody point him out._ _  
_

Margaery was given leave to return to her seat, and he dared another look back at his cousin, who had turned a sickly shade of pale as he sweated out most of the moisture in his body, and when Jaime looked closer, he saw the boy begin to tremble.

 _I have to do something_ , he thought urgently. As if in answer to his thought, Tyrion's eyes happened upon his own by chance, and Jaime widened them in meaning before Tyrion could look away.

His younger brother's eyes narrowed in confusion, his brow furrowing in question, as his gaze lingered upon Jaime's. Unblinking, and never moving his eyes from Tyrion's, Jaime very slowly but deliberately inclined his head towards Lancel. Just as he'd followed Brienne's gaze, Tyrion followed his - a dark smile complete with the rolling of his eyes the biggest indication Jaime could find that his brother had understood the target.

"Cousin Lancel, I almost didn't see you there. Come out of the shadows, where you can see your beautiful Queen Regent stand before the judges." 

Most eyes in the room flickered towards Lancel questionably, but Cersei's widened with fear, and Tywin glared in irritation.

Lancel's eyes had become wide and round, and he omitted a quiet gasp as nearly every person in the room turned to stare at him. Gingerly, he rose from his seat and placed one shaking foot in front of the other, looking every bit the rabbit trapped by the hunter as he sat down again, a few rows closer to Cersei.

"Now... forgive me, father, for indulging in petty rumors, if that's all they are," Tyrion began, his eyes sparkling mischievously, "but I've heard some rather disturbing news regarding the Queen and her cousin."

More gasps of shock filled the room, and Lancel's eyes became even wider. Jaime marveled, shocked beyond words that he wasn't the only person to have learned of their relationship. Brienne's eyes snapped to him instantly, wide and round, but he shrugged disinterestedly and they turned their eyes to Lancel.

"I-I... I do not know what you mean, L-Lord Tyrion" the boy stammered, squinting awkwardly as beads of sweat from his forehead began to drip into and sting his emerald green eyes.

"Oh, don't fool with me cousin" Tyrion replied, standing from his chair to pace before his father in the throne.

"I can bear witness to your confession of such relations myself. Or have you forgotten?"

Lancel dabbed at his forehead, a petrified look crossing his already panic-stricken face. He said nothing, as he looked to his feet, ignoring Cersei's hateful glance as she looked at him over her shoulder.

"Were you counting on not being discovered, dear sister?" Tyrion asked her, smiling sarcastically. Jaime smiled wistfully; his little brother truly held the reigns now, as Tywin watched wordlessly.

Cersei smoothed her features and swallowed hard, looking Tyrion square in the eye.

"My relations are my concern and mine alone. This is none of your business and if-"

"Ah, but it  _is_ my business" he countered, cutting off her strong voice mid-sentence.

"Because  _I_ am on the panel this afternoon, sweet sister, and my job as such is to determine who accompanied you in your attempt at murder-"

"Your job, Lord Tyrion, is to determine  _if_ she is guilty at all." Tywin cut in, his voice almost shaking with furious power.

Tywin smiled with narrowed eyes, before turning to face his youngest son. "Indeed, father. Be that as it may, I call our third witness, as I would have it, before the crown. Lancel" he shouted, making his younger cousin jump from his very skin, his eyes darting wildly around the room.

"Do tell us when my dear sister asked you to steal Tears of Lys from Grand Maester Pycelle's supplies."

Lancel trembled as he walked to Tyrion, his eyes jumping from one door to the next window, as if he were contemplating escape. Tyrion smiled wistfully as the boy approached, though his smile was only met with anxious stuttering and the occasional drop of sweat.

"I- didn't, my Lord. Cersei-- The Queen Regent, didn't ask--"

"Oh, Lancel!" Tyrion barked, a look of annoyance crossing his usually smiling features. "Do stop prolonging this painful waste of an afternoon. Do you deny the relations between yourself and Cersei?"

"I... I don't-- I..." 

"Good. Do you deny stealing Tears of Lys for her?"

Lancel began shaking his head wildly, his blonde hair sticking to the sweat on his face as he did so, and he muttered and stammered words that were seemingly incoherent to rest of the room. Cersei rolled her eyes, folding her arms in irritation.

"Lancel..." Tywin spoke, slowly and gravely. As it happened, his voice was the one of success. The boy's eyes were wild and wide, as he finally broke.

"Yes! Yes, Lord Tyrion, I took the poison." Surprised looks and utterances rung around the room, and Jaime grinned at Brienne with satisfaction.

Cersei's eyes lingered upon the steps leading to the throne, though her expression was most displeased. Her eyes were as cold as ever, but Jaime saw fear brimming within them, however carefully she masked it from everyone else.  _That wasn't supposed to happen_ , Jaime thought smugly.  _She knows she's in trouble now._

Tyrion grinned at Lancel, and then at Jaime, who returned his smile eagerly.

"Did The Queen Regent tell you of her plans for the poison once you had retrieved it?" Tywin's gravelly voice came, silencing the nervous chatter that had filled the room.

Lancel swallowed, shaking his head. "No, my Lord. She didn't disclose any information to me regarding its uses."

"And it  _was_ Tears of Lys you stole?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Tyrion frowned, before sitting back atop his chair, and directing his gaze towards Bronn. "Ser Bronn. Do hand the cup in question to Grand Maester Pycelle. Poisons tend to leave residue behind, and he should be more than able to identify it."

Bronn looked into the empty cup and shrugged, crossing to hand it to Pycelle regardless. The old Maester cleared his throat importantly, as he shakily took the cup from Bronn. 

"As I suspected" he said weakly, nodding his head as though he truly had expected to find the cup completely empty from the start. Brienne stifled a laugh, and Jaime squeezed her hand in warning, though he had a hard time keeping the smile from his face himself. 

"What do you see?" Tyrion asked, staring at Cersei as he waited for Pycelle to respond. 

"I see nothing, my Lord" he replied, causing more guests to gasp in astonishment. "But this is to be expected, upon the use of Tears of Lys. Often spoke of as the most deadly poison, it is utterly undetectable when dissolved into liquids. It is colourless, tasteless, odorless, and even the symptoms are difficult to discern."

"How so?" Tyrion asked, his eyes fixed upon Cersei's look of hatered. 

"The effect it has upon the human body is remarkably similar to that of a fever. A strong one, mind" he rambled. "I once knew a man with a terrible fever, just two and twenty at the time, and he--"

Tyrion rolled his eyes, waving away another of Pycelle's tales dismissively. Brienne again stifled a laugh, and Jaime kicked her softly beneath their chairs. Her smile was infectious, and he soon found himself having to stifle his own laughter.

"So there you have it" Tyrion said with satisfaction, turning to grin at his expressionless father as he occupied the throne.

"Father, this is nonsense" Cersei urged, her eyes pleading with her father. "If I wanted her killed, I'd have--"

"Poisoned her, like you attempted" Tyrion cut in, his voice edged with anger as his sister's pleas to their father angered him.

"BE QUIET, you stupid little imp--" she shouted quickly through gritted teeth, though her shouting was cut off by an even stronger voice as Tywin interjected between his children's squabbling once again.

"ENOUGH" he commanded, the very room seeming to shake at the power of his voice.

Tyrion looked at her with distaste, before hopping down from his chair again and gesturing towards Bronn.

"Bronn. I believe it's time for our last witness to speak before the crown" he said, as Bronn nodded to two of the nearby guards. Seconds later, the sellsword was dragged before them, also looking disheveled from his night in the dungeons, and Cersei's eyes widened even further. 

"Your name?" Tyrion asked, his voice sounding almost bored at this point. 

"Braddock Waters" the man said, sending a murmur of amusement through the crowds of seated guests.

"Ah, a Bastard looking for work!" Tyrion said, pacing slowly before him. Braddock nodded gruffly, not meeting his eyes.

"And did the Queen give Tears of Lys to you?"

Again, he nodded, this time with a rough mumble of "Yes m'Lord."

Tyrion nodded, looking at Tywin pointedly. 

"We have no evidence that this man speaks the truth" Tywin said, shaking his head in ridicule.

Tyrion's eyebrows raised in response. "Ah, yes, of course. Varys?"

All heads turned to the Spymaster of King's Landing, as Vary's rose fluidly from his seat, bowing his head respectfully. 

"Lord Tyrion." 

"As Spymaster, surely one of your little birds has some knowledge on this subject?" 

Cersei clenched her jaw nervously, her hands balling into fists. Varys smiled smugly.

"Indeed they have, my Lord. You see, there are few things my little birds do not hear, and songs of poison have been rather frequent as of late."

Tywin's chin jutted out stubbornly, though he said nothing as the scene before him unfurled.

"Excellent. Do have them sing one to us." 

Varys nodded once again, before turning to the back of the room. "Grayce Blacktyde" he called delicately, causing a shy girl dressed as a handmaiden to appear from the shadows.

Tyrion smiled kindly as the worried looking girl approached the throne, curtsying gently as she did so. "My Lords."

"Varys tells us you have information on the Queen's attempted murder of Lady Brienne?"

She nodded her head meekly, never holding Tyrion's eyes for very long.

"Indeed, my Lord. I saw The Queen meet with Braddock just days ago, on the balcony of her chambers in the early hours of the morning."

"How early was this?"

"Either early or late, my Lord. The sky was still black, and no birds were there to sing, but most had been in their chambers asleep for hours."

Tyrion nodded. "And what did you see?"

I saw them emerge from her chambers, as they stood atop her balcony. The Queen surveyed the surrounding area, but I was able to recluse myself within the shadows. She handed the poison to him, in a small vial, and he stowed it within his tunic immediately."

Tywin looked to Braddock roughly, his voice a harsh bark. "Is this true?"

Braddock nodded heavily. "Aye m'Lord."

Tyrion nodded at Grayce to continue her account, though the girl looked nervously to Tywin before continuing.

"I was below the balcony, so it was hard to hear much of what she said. I heard her say "Slipped into her wine, it will have her at her knees within seconds. Even a great beast like her.""

Fury built from the pit of Jaime's stomach until it heated his face, and Brienne had to place a calming hand upon his leg to stop him from jumping to his feet.  _She's more a woman than you'll ever be_ , he thought hatefully as he glared at his twin.

Cersei shook her head. She looked a woman in denial.

People began to chatter loudly, and Tyrion looked at their father wordlessly. 

"Silence" he commanded, never moving his steely glare from Tyrion. The room fell silent within an instant.

"What other evidence is needed?" the youngest Lannister asked deftly, though Tywin's hands had balled into fists that were almost as tight as Cersei's.

The silence stretched on, suspense thick in the air.

"We will adjourn for now" Tywin spoke at once, as Tyrion rolled his eyes and grimaced in irritation. Everyone rose, and filed out of the room in turn.

Three Knights appeared and escorted Cersei back to the dungeons, and Tywin stalked out regally behind her. 

"I think that went remarkably well, don't you?" His younger brother smiled sardonically, as he strode across to Jaime and Brienne. Jaime couldn't help his returning smile. 

"Indeed, little brother. All evidence is, for once, in our favor."

Tyrion shook his head, grinning. "I thought father would have succeeded in turning the tables before now. I don't think either expected dear Lancel to break" Tyrion laughed under his breath.

Jaime nodded in agreement, before a burning question he'd previously thought of bubbled its way to the surface of his mind.

"How did you know about Cersei and Lancel?" 

Tyrion grinned impishly, shaking his head at Jaime. "Dear brother, I believe it is more common knowledge than you think."

"Did you know I knew?" He replied, feeling stupid once again at keeping the news to himself.

"I did. I had Lancel spy for me not long ago, you see; I threatened to reveal their secret long before now. He told me you'd caught them, at one of our meetings. If not, you know I would have told you."

Jaime smiled softly, touched by his brother's loyalty. 

Bronn approached and began speaking with Tyrion, and Jaime's attentions were turned back to Brienne. 

"You never mentioned anything about that" she mused quietly, wiping a mark from the arm of his tunic. He shrugged.

"From that day onwards, she ceased to matter. It hardly felt important enough to tell you."

Brienne nodded, before her eyes widened with a smirk. "I'm surprised you didn't kill him."

Jaime sniggered, remembering the feelings of rage he'd felt as he saw his cousin wrapped within Cersei's sheets. "I thought about it" he admitted, taking her hand in his, "but something stopped me." 

His heart grew warm as he remembered that it was  _her_ who'd stopped him from making such a life-changing mistake, even though she only appeared in his head, and he kissed her forehead fondly. She drew back looking confused, but pleased all the while, until her confused smile turned slowly to a frown.

"Don't feel vexed at me, but..." 

A feeling of dread wiped away his feelings of appreciation almost instantly, and he eyed her warily, wondering what trouble she could have gotten herself into even as he sat beside her. 

"What is it?"

"I... want to speak, with your sister."

Shock pulsed through his system, and he probably regarded Brienne as though she'd gone mad, though she sighed and rolled her eyes in response. He blinked furiously in confusion.

"You want to do _what_ , exactly?"

"As Tyrion pointed out, the evidence is largely in our favor. It's a possibility that your sister will be put to death for this."

Jaime shook his head, the prospect seeming ridiculously unlikely. "I highly doubt it. It's considerably more likely that my father will offer you blood money, or that her stupid temper will get the better of her and she'll demand a trial by combat." 

Brienne nodded wordlessly, though he could tell she wasn't quite finished with her argument. He sighed.

"I want to persuade her to go with the option of blood money. Though obviously I disagree with her reasons, I understand them, and..." She broke off, seeing the look of disbelief clouding Jaime's face.

"...And, well... Nobody was _actually_ killed. I see no reason for anyone yet to be as a result."

"You'd have her live after she attempted to kill you?"

" _Attempted_ , exactly" Brienne laughed, cupping his face in both her hands. "She didn't  _manage_ , did she? You and I will be far from here soon enough. Casterly Rock for now, and, who knows, maybe someday even Tarth. We will protect ourselves and each other and even if she does attempt to harm me once more, she won't get close." 

He swallowed.  _The woman is absolutely mad. I'm genuinely quite worried about her mental health. I've never known a person quite like her._

The look upon her face grew exasperated, though she smiled at him kindly. "Don't you see? Just because  _her_ answer is murder, it doesn't mean ours should be. And she is human-"

"-I sometimes doubt it" Jaime grumbled by way of interruption, earning him a glare from Brienne, "-so she might even be thankful enough for our mercy to leave us be."

Jaime laughed, a surreal sense of doubt making him shake his head at his good, _good_ , honorable wife. _  
_

"If you think she'll act within any realm of decency, you don't know her very well."

"Perhaps not. But, allow me to speak with her all the same? Please?"

She tugged on his hand, and he looked at her, though he instantly wished he hadn't. She gazed up at him imploringly, her beautiful eyes that familiar colour of Sapphires, giving him the feeling that his insides were melting. She squeezed his hand, as her eyes held his own.

He sighed again. "Fine, wench. Though it will do no good. And I will stay with you."

She frowned, shaking her head at him. "Don't be ridiculous. It needs to be woman to woman, Jaime. You'll have to wait outside."

He rolled his eyes with disbelief, and followed her towards the exit of the Throne Room.

"Where you two off?" Bronn shouted after them with a wink, as Brienne reached for Jaime's hand.

"You don't want to know" Jaime winked back, causing both Bronn and Tyrion to erupt into raucous laughter.

Once they'd left the room, she punched his arm angrily, her skin scarlet red.

"That wasn't  _funny_ " she said through her teeth, his laughter only irritating her more. 

 _How stubborn she is_ , he thought adoringly. He planted a kiss atop her forehead once more, before he took her hand in his and led her towards the dungeons, almost as in love with her stubborn arguing as he was the woman herself. 


	26. Sorrow, Guilt, Hardships

**Brienne**

Arm in arm, she and Jaime had paced quickly to the dungeons, Jaime muttering about how stupid it was all the while. She rolled her eyes once or twice, but otherwise paid little attention to him; though she  _was_ thankful of his accompaniment regardless - even more so since she knew he'd deemed it such a waste of time. Smiling at him fondly, (though he was too busy scowling at the walls to notice), she sent up another silent prayer to the Seven, thanking them once again for the gift of having Jaime in her life.

Before long, the hallways grew dark, and Jaime picked a fire torch from the walls, using its light to guide them safely to the Black Cells. 

Several Guards stood outside Cersei's cell, each with torches of their own, but allowed them fast entry upon seeing Jaime's face. With a sigh, he stepped back, allowing Brienne to overtake him, and handed her his torch as she passed. She smiled at him tiredly, before taking a deep breath, and striding confidently towards the cell. 

The Guards moved to stop her initially, thinking of course that  _Jaime_ wished to visit Cersei, but one look at Jaime's face had them stepping apart quickly, allowing her through. 

The air smelled damp, and she could hear water dripping somewhere in the distance. The light of her torch illuminated Cersei's sitting figure at once, though the sudden influx of light caused the Queen Regent to shield her squinting eyes. 

"Father?" She shouted, upon seeing Brienne's broad shoulders and short length of hair behind the glowing orange light.

Brienne rolled her eyes, exhaling with irritation.  _Once again mistaken for a man, and once again in a bloody dress. Why in the Seven Hells do I bother?_

She knelt down beside Cersei, illuminating her own face with the torch as she brought it closer to it. 

"No, your Grace. Just me, I'm afraid."

Cersei's hopeful expression grew cold, and she looked away from Brienne dismissively.

"What do you want, Lady Brienne?" She asked in a voice that was silky yet dripping with boredom, her voice startlingly similar in tone to her twin brother's. Brienne grimaced uncomfortably, shaking her head quickly to rid it of her thoughts.

"I came to advise you" she said, her earnest blue eyes staring into Cersei's intently. Cersei smiled, shaking her head with doubt.

"And what makes you think you have the power or experience to give the Queen Regent advice?"

Brienne shrugged, not allowing the arrogance and rudeness in Cersei's voice to deter her. She knew she had to be patient.

"I don't think myself in a position of power, Your Grace" Brienne began uncertainly, weighing out each word as she said it, "But I think myself in a position to bring peace. No blood was shed, regardless of certain intentions. It would seem a waste and a tragedy if yours were spilled regardless of that fact."

Cersei's eyes turned curious, as she glanced back at Brienne in shock. After a few seconds, she recovered it well, looking at her knees with cold eyes and an arrogant smirk. Brienne bit her lip to keep from voicing how much it irritated her.

"You remind me of Ned Stark, you know" Cersei began, her voice slow and feminine. Brienne's own eyes widened with shock, and though she'd never met him, her heart warmed at the mention of his name.

"I never got the chance to meet him" Brienne said miserably, her Blue eyes sad and intense. Cersei smiled up at her.

"I most despise to admit it, but you are unlucky in such a fact" she replied, her smile fading with each word she said. "You'd have liked him very much, I dare say. All about honor, honesty, loyalty, the Old Way..." She trailed off, laughing under her breath as she traced one of her long, delicate fingers along the embroidery of her sleeve. "I tried to stop Joffrey from taking his head. He didn't deserve to die that way."

"I've heard he was a very honorable man" Brienne replied, nodding her head respectfully. "As were his wife, and his son."

Cersei rolled her eyes. "I almost forgot you served the Starks."

"Not the Starks" Brienne began, trying her hardest to keep the sharp edge of anger out of her voice. "Just Lady Catelyn. From what I knew of her, she was as honorable as her husband."

"He was a very honorable man, indeed" Cersei began, her eyes never moving from the intricate needlework upon her dress, "But it ceased to get him very far. There is no place for honor in this world, Lady Brienne. If you don't take what you want, you do not get it. A lot can be said for lying, around here. Every word said in the capital is simply a line; each person speaking a piece in the Game."

Her voice was full of sadness, and though Brienne knew her to be responsible for terrible, terrible things... she found herself pitying her. The politics of King's Landing had turned her so cold; so scheming, so calculating, so... defeated, and pessimistic. Immoral.  _Just how Sansa might have been, had she not been so strong_.

Brienne sat upon the damp, musty ground with her legs folded, to avoid the ache that had begun to spread painfully through her crouching legs. She didn't know what to say in response to that; Brienne's own views were totally different - they came from different worlds, she and Cersei. She didn't even know where to begin in explaining their differences, and she knew their time was ebbing further and further away from them with each passing second. She sighed, and decided to focus on the important details - the reasons she'd come in the first place.

"You did do it, didn't you, Your Grace?" she asked, almost timidly, drawing a peal of breathless laughter from The Queen. Even undernourished and unclean though she was, she was still graceful; Brienne found herself marveling at her beauty. 

"Yes, Lady Brienne. I tried to kill you." Cersei rolled her eyes. "I won't insult your intelligence by explaining why." 

Brienne nodded. It was exceedingly obvious, after all. And regardless of that... she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it again.

"I'm sorry for what you have been through." Brienne said, seeing the vulnerability behind the mask of confidence Cersei wore for the first time reflected back at her in the torchlight.

"We cannot choose who we love" She continued, smiling as she accidentally quoted Jaime. "To love someone who doesn't return your feelings is one thing, but to love a man who loves you in return yet is still unattainable..." she trailed off, imagining the pain of it as she spoke. She truly did feel sympathy towards the beautiful, unclean woman sitting before her.

Cersei's eyes had grown soft, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She wiped them away hurriedly before they had the chance.

"He doesn't love me any longer" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "He went away. And when he returned..." Her eyes turned misty, and she stared at the stone wall in front of her, as though describing a painting of a memory.

"You came back with him, and everything changed. He still professed to love me, and occasionally sought out my company, but spent more time frolicking around the training yard with you." That irritated laugh sounded from her lips again, and Brienne felt a surge of guilt.

"We came into this world together, Jaime and I. Even when we slipped from our mother's womb just seconds apart, he was holding onto my foot. He showed me devotion like no other man ever had or would. He shows that devotion to you, now. He hasn't had the best opportunities to show it yet, but he will. I've seen it in the way he looks at you. He used to look at me, that way."

Brienne's stomach squirmed uncomfortably. Never in her life had a man picked her over another woman. She'd never expected it to happen, and now that it had... it wasn't at all as pleasant and flattering as she thought it would be. She simply felt guilty, and when she looked at Cersei's golden hair and feminine body, worthless. She questioned Jaime's mental health slightly, too. 

Then again, though she didn't understand his reasons entirely, he  _had_ chosen her. As she'd just told Cersei, nobody gets to choose who they love. If she brings Jaime happiness, who was she to judge his decisions? She smiled softly. Jaime's happiness was the most important thing to her, as of late. That thought alone prompted her next line of argument to his beautiful twin.

"I look at you, Your Grace, and see a beauty I've envied my whole life. You are feminine and beautiful in a way that I once ached to be but will never succeed in being, and as far as Jaime goes, you are by far more suited to his affections than I could ever hope to be. I am sure there was a time when Jaime thought so too-" - she smiled fondly, casting her mind back to their travels on the road - "- he called me a beast when we'd first met, and I called him Kingslayer - though, for reasons I don't even understand myself, I made him very happy."

Cersei's eyes were curious, her perfect brows knitted together in a frown, but she didn't interrupt.

"If you truly love Jaime, as I do... don't you want him to be happy, even if it isn't with you?"

Cersei remained silent, her frown growing softer as she turned her eyes to the ground.

"Your father will more than likely offer me blood money as payment for your crime" Brienne said softly. "Your other options of course, are beheading, or demanding a trial by combat. The choice, Your Grace, is, as always, yours, but..."

Brienne got to her feet, lowering her torch to Cersei's face as she spoke her final words to her.

"...please don't cost anyone their lives. If you truly care for your brother, allow him to be happy. There's no need for any more bloodshed, or any innocent lives to be lost as a price for Jaime's happiness."

Cersei continued to say nothing, opting to stare at the wall in front of her expressionlessly. 

"I truly am sorry for the hardships you've had to endure."

With that, Brienne nodded once and turned on her heel, seconds away from leaving the Black Cells when Cersei's voice stopped her.

"Brienne" she shouted, shielding her eyes once again from the glare of the fire torch when Brienne turned around to face her.

"You served Lady Catelyn." She said it as a statement, and Brienne was confused at what she could possibly be thinking of with regards to it.

"I did, Your Grace."

"Tell me... did she miss her children? Her girls, Sansa and Arya?"

A lump swelled in Brienne's throat, as she swallowed back tears, and nodded fervently.

"She did, very much. I swore an oath to her, in which I would exchange them for your brother and return them safely to her."

Cersei's eyes flitted to the floor.  _Is it in my head, or does she seem... sorry?_

"That must have been hard to cope with."

Brienne nodded silently, shocked at Cersei's show of compassion.

"I still intend to keep my oath" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I intend to take Sansa Stark to her brother on the wall, and find Arya Stark along the way. I can't return them to their mother, but I can return them to their own blood."

Cersei nodded thoughtfully.

"My Myrcella was taken from me years ago" she said sadly, her voice heavy in the flickering torchlight. 

"In return for your mercy, and as..." she widened her eyes, rolling them slightly with annoyance, "...an apology, for my crimes, I will discuss the departure of Sansa Stark with my father for you. I cannot promise his agreement, but I give you my word I will try to persuade him."

Brienne's heat soared, and she smiled at Cersei genuinely. 

"The poor little dove's been punished here enough, already. I once blamed her for Joff's death, but..." she laughed again, breathy and delicate.

"I don't think the girl could harm a fly." 

Brienne laughed with her then, imagining Sansa attempting to kill someone a greatly amusing prospect to her. 

Their laughter died down awkwardly, and their eyes met in the flickering darkness.

"I know we may never see eye to eye, Your Grace" Brienne began, "But I thank you for allowing Jaime to be happy, and for aiding me in keeping my oath to Lady Catelyn. Their deaths were unjust and cruel, and I'll hold that fact against your family for as long as I live, but your help with regards to making up for the deceit is more than welcome, and appreciated."

"Go, then" Cersei smirked, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. "Before I change my mind."

With that, Brienne nodded once, and left the Black Cells, being instantly snatched into Jaime's reassuring arms as he pulled her close to him in a bone-crushing embrace. She laughed, separating herself from his iron grip. 

"What did she say?" He asked, his eyes soft as he looked deeply into her own.

Brienne smiled kindly, feeling hopeful about the latter part of the trial, and Sansa Stark's future. She kissed him lightly on the nose.

"I'll explain on our way back."


End file.
